


Burning of my heart stopped the spinning my wheel.

by Dandelionquake



Series: Children of the Iron Crown [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Barristan Selmy Lives, Battle of the Bastards, Cannon Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Epic Battles, F/F, F/M, Gen, Graphic Violence, Loras Tyrell Lives, Margaery Tyrell Lives, Not Beta Read, POV Arianne Martell, POV Arya Stark, POV Jon Snow, POV Margaery Tyrell, POV Sansa Stark, Post book five, Rickon Stark Lives, Stark-centric (ASoIaF), Violence, green trial, sibling relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandelionquake/pseuds/Dandelionquake
Summary: A series of interconnected drabblesic chapters post DwD. Jon Snow was recently stabbed to death, however he has people depending on him  he cannot quit now. While no one would blame him for it, Eddard Stark did not raise him that way. Sansa Stark has lost everybody and everything she cared about. Now she had the worlds greatest (and creepiest) manipulator trying to use her as a political pawn and a chance to gain what he never got from her mother. Meanwhile Margaery followed what her family told her to do. Now she must deal with the Consequences of a Mad woman trying to grasp what little power she had.Highly bastardized mix of both show and book cannon
Relationships: Arianne Martell & Elia Sand, Arianne Martell & Quentyn Martell, Barristan Selmy & Daenerys Targaryen, Daenerys Targaryen/Loras Tyrell, Garlan Tyrell & Loras Tyrell & Margaery Tyrell & Willas Tyrell, Gilly & Jon Snow & Samwell Tarly, Harrold Hardyng/Sansa Stark, Jeyne Poole & Jon Snow, Jeyne Poole & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Bran Stark & Rickon Stark & Robb Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Rickon Stark, Jon Snow & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & Tormund Giantsbane, Jon Snow/Val, Margaery Tyrell & Alla Tyrell & Megga Tyrell & Elinor Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell & Olenna Tyrell, Margaery Tyrell & Willas Tyrell, Myranda Royce & Sansa Stark, Sansa Stark & Mya Stone, Tyrion Lannister & Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Children of the Iron Crown [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738267
Comments: 90
Kudos: 114





	1. Jon

_“He had never seen the Princess so sad.”_ Was the first thing that he thought looking up at her. “ _Not even when her Dalla died. Why was she so sad?”_

Looking around he noticed all the Freefolk were staring at what seemed to be an enormous bonfire, and Jon’s first though was “ _Who died?”_

Now just because there was fire did not mean that there was a death, however the Watch had been very careful about the bonfires like this. Supplies had not been generous to the Watch, so it had not been practical for them to be setting Bonfires. Who had approved this? Why? And why the Hell had none of the Watch shown up as well.

“Hey!” Bowen March screamed, storming over followed by a few different black brothers. “What in the seven hells are you doing?”

“What the hell does it look like?” Tormund screamed. “Cowards the lot of ya! Can’t even let’em rest in peace!”

“Wasting the Watch’s resources! You are lucky that we’re even letting you stay.” Bowen screamed.

“Har! Letting us!” Tormund snorted. “I’d like to see you try to make us leave!”

“Just leave!” Val yelled storming over. Jon trotted over to follow her. “It should be you Crows doing this! Disrespectful the lot of ya.”

“Watch it _princess._ ” Bowen snapped, stepping close to her. A fury passed through him as he moved between Val and Marsh. How dare he. Jon should rip his arm off and beat him with it. How dare he threaten the mate! “Get that thing away from me!”

“No!”

Jon’s eyes snapped open surrounded by orange light, realizing the fact that what he just saw was real. He became very, very angry. Bowen stabbed him! He threatened Val. Jon stood up on the bonfire and heard numerous people gasp. As he stormed over Tormund, Bowen and Val all looked at him, jaws dropped in horror. Bowen stumbled with a sword but as soon as it swung at Jon, he caught him by his wrist.

“You’re… You’re dead!” He said, face becoming even paler than it was from the cold.

“Clearly.” Jon deadpanned, grabbing Bowen by the throat. He picked him up and slammed him to the ground. The older man started wheezing and tried to crawl away. Jon kicked him in the ribs flipping the man onto his back and knelt on his chest. Before he could stop himself, he brought all of his weight down on the man’s face through his fist. The man’s face bounced off of his fist and then bounced off the ground. As soon as he decided to walk away, a dark thought passed through his head.

_Enemy, kill._

_Prey._

Jon let lose a barrage of blows so fast and extreme that he did not realize that the man was dead before Tormund was pulling him off. Looking back, he saw that there was not much left of Bowen’s head, just a pile of goo.

“Don’t know how ya survived Crow, but I am sure glad to see ya.” Tormund said, leading, practically dragging, him away.

“Here ya are.” Val said, draping her cloak over what he now realized was his very naked body. “Don’t need ya coming back to life just to catch yer death.”

“What a tale it would be! King Crow, survived the knife, survived the fire, died by the sniffles! Har” Tormund bellowed as they arrived at Jon’s room.

Jon was more than a little annoyed at the fact that Marsh seemed to not to have even waited before he started to move his things into his rooms. “ _Why? This is not even the Lord Commanders room? I took it from Donal Noye.”_

_“_ He couldn’t even wait to start moving his things in?” Jon finally said, out loud in disgust. Going through his things he threw on the first set of trousers that he could find.

“Eh, crow?”

“What.”

“You been dead for days.” Tormund said, and Jon’s eyes widened as he felt back onto the bed.

“They stashed you in the ice cells.” Val explained. “It took us a few days to find you.”

Days. He had been dead for days. He tried and failed not to chuckle at the irony. He had been putting corpses in the ice cells for weeks, hoping to study wights and here he was. Also getting put in there after death. Val and Tormund looked at him as if he had gone mad as he started laughing.

“Jon!” Val shouted suddenly as the cloak fell from his shoulders.

“ _Oh, what now.”_ He thought to himself as he looked down and saw the from all of his stab wounds, flames were coming out. His eyes widened and he did the first thing that he could think of, he stuck a finger into one. “I don’t feel anything!”

“Well of course ya don’t!” Val said, exasperatedly. “Ya just walked out of fire fine!”

“Think that fire might’ve boiled yer brains, Crow. Har!” Tormund joked but quickly realized that it may not have been the funniest jape as Jon and Val both threw dirty looks at him.

Val hesitantly raised a finger to the flame and poked it, quickly snatching it away in instinct. Her eyes widened in realization before poking again. “It’s cold!” she said, in shock.

It was just then two more figures burst into the room.

“Gods be good!” Statin said, as Alys Karstark’s jaw dropped. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Jon said, shrugging. “What have I missed?”

“Stannis Baratheon has been killed.” Statin said, sadly. “Stormlanders, have been filing in all day.”

The room was silent for a moment as Jon shrugged on a blue tunic that had been a gift from his father. He was rather dismayed to find out that it barely fit him anymore.

“Tormund, Val.” He said, quietly. “Are the Freefolk still willing to help me fight?”

“Aye.” Val said, before Tormund could answer. “Are you still thinking about fighting the Flayer’s bastard?”

“Aye.” Jon said, and as he spoke, he could feel the flames from his wounds heat up. “More importantly, I’m going to rescue my sister.”


	2. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's leaders start to develop plans and other things in Jon's personal life start to develop as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has sort of dubious consent, but it is consent.

“The letters all went out to the mountain clans.” Alys said, walking back in. Jon, Tormund, Sigorn, and Val all stood over a table showing the map to the North. “The Mormont’s as well.”

“They can bring us about 2,100 men.” Jon said, as he moved pieces around. “If they agree to help.”

“Also 1,300 Freefolk are willing to follow you.” Val said, “Wun-Wun agreed as well. You’ve seen what he’s capable of. He thinks more of them are on their way but he isn't sure.”

“Aye.” Jon said, “Alys, the Karstark’s have sided with Ramsay. Are you sure that you want to do this?”

“Aye.” She said, her face growing stormy. “Your brother may have killed my father, but you protected me. Besides, my uncle is a traitor so by helping you I help myself get what is mine and my brother's back.”

“Good.” Jon said, “We’ll leave in the morrow. The rest of the Freefolk can stay here for now, while we meet with the other clan leaders.

Tormund, Alys and Sigorn all nod and move to leave. As Jon moved to clean up their maps, when he felt Val walked up to him. “Are you sure you want do this Crow?” She said, and Jon realized how very close to him she was. “Your Kneeler Lords won’t like the fact that your leaving the rest of the Crows? Mance said he saw your Da execute another deserter himself.”

“My vows say until my death.” Jon said, realizing she was _much_ too close. “I died. My vows are complete.”

_She smells so good. She’s taller than me as well._

He shook off the little voice in the back of his head that had shown up after he came back. The voice had been growing stronger the last three days. Advocating more violent actions, he had barely been able to stop himself from ripping Wick apart when he saw him. That wasn’t even getting into what it was saying whenever Val was around.

“They’ll accept that?” She asked, “I barely believe it and I was there.”

“They’ll have to.” Jon said, “The mutineers bodies will be enough proof we need for them to join together to fight the Night King’s army. We cannot do that with the Bolton’s in power. Every one of the Lords lost family and men to them at the Red Wedding...”

“Red Wedding?” Val interrupted with a head tilt that made Jon’s breath hitch slightly. She put a hand on a cocked-out hip.

_Nice hips. Can have many pups._

“A house called the Frey’s drew my brother in with Guest Right, and then they and the Bolton’s slaughtered my Brother, his mother and most of his men.”

“Monster!” Val said, spitting on the floor.

“Aye.” Jon agreed, as Val frowned. “My brother was one of the best men I’ve known, they cut his head off and stuck his Direwolf’s head on his body.”

“When we go down there, we’ll cut their heads off.” Val said, shrugging with a smile directed at him. "Don't you worry." 

_She’s gorgeous. She would make a good mate. A lot of good strong pups. She wants him as well._ _She wants him to take her like a bitch._ _He could smell it on her._

“Dammit, Snow!” Val shouted, “You’re hurting me.”

Jon was snapped out of his thoughts as he realized that his hand was fisted in Val’s hair, pressing her face to the table as the rest of her body was bent over it. Her clothes torn apart and the front of his hips pressed flush against the back of her own.

Jon’s entire body froze up as he started to back up. “Val, I’m…”

Before he could full pull away from her, she shouted “I didn’t say stop fool!”

“Wh-What?” Jon said, in shock as she grabbed the backs of his thighs.

“You were tugging my hair a tad to hard.”

“Val, I…”

“Don’t care!” She snapped, “We can talk about it _afterwards_! Now if you do not finish me off, then we are gonna have a problem.” He stared at her in shock before she snapped, “Now Snow!”

A few hours later, they were lying in bed, and Val’s back was pulled to Jon’s front underneath the furs. Jon had his hands around her torso, rubbing circles into her skin with his thumb.

“You like them, Jon Snow?” Val’s asked in a teasing voice.

“Like what?”

“My teats.” She asked, in a faux innocent voice. “The gods know Ygritte didn’t have’em. Flat as the floor she was!”

“Val…” Jon said.

“By the… it was a joke Snow! Lighten up!” Val said, she started to twist around and draped herself over his chest as he lied onto his back. She rolled her eyes as she said, “It shouldn’t be a surprise that your brooding more now than you did before. Even if you did just get laid.”

Jon blushed and his body stiffened again. “Look Val about. What happened… I don’t even know what happened…”

“I do.”

“What?”

“You’re a Skinchanger, Snow.” Val said, “You spent to much time in your Direwolf after you were stabbed. When you came back, you brought back a part of the wolf with you. Don’t worry though I liked it. About damned time too. Thought I'd grow old with saggy teats before you did something about it.”

“What?” He asked incredulously. “You were the one who threaten to geld me!”

“Of course, lackwit!” She said, rolling her eyes. “You wouldn't’ be stealing me if I just let you, now would ya? completely misses the point. And now you know I wanted it. Otherwise you’d be a cock and balls short. Do trust me on that if you think I'm gonna be some kneeler wife for you to order around. I like you, but I am Freefolk.”

He sighed and let his head fall back onto the pillows. His father would be so disappointed in his decisions. He vowed to never father a bastard and now after everything… But on the other hand, his inner turmoil had been tempered more now than it had been since he had woken up. So, this was not all bad.

“We…” Jon began before there was a slamming on Jon’s door. “Snow!” Alys stormed through his door to see Jon and Val beneath the furs. “Huh. Guess putting your cock where it doesn’t belong at the worst possible moment is a family trait?”

“Alys.” Jon said, almost growling and her quite inappropriate joke. He stuffed down his inner wolf howling at the joke at Robb's expense as he knew Alys did not mean anything by it for the most part.

“He sticks his cock…” Val began, probably to make a jape at Jon's expense.

“I’m assuming that you’re here for a Reason, My Lady?” Jon interrupted.

“Yes!” She said, “There’s someone at the gates claiming to be Arya Stark!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing these as they come to mind. Honestly if anyone has any ideas just let me know.


	3. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets his sister "Arya"

“Where’s your lady love?” Alys asked sarcastically.

“She thought I’d want this moment private, so she…” Jon hesitated for a moment before saying, “…went to go brew some tansy tea.” Causing Alys to burst out in laughter.

“Are- are you sure you wanna do this?” Alys asked, “That Bolton bastard… what they say he did to her…”

“It’s Arya.” Jon said, curtly. “No matter what he did to her I will be there for her.”

Jon walked into the courtyard that the Night’s Watch had set up for Arya and the people who escorted her up to the wall. A boy that would be around the same age as Bran would be today, two dark haired women, a flithy old man and the tallest woman he had ever met all were waiting for him. As soon as he walked in, the old man flinched at the sight of him and the tall woman stepped up.

“My Lord, I am Brienne of Tarth. Before she died your mother… Lady Catelyn.” She said, clearly embarrassed. His and Catelyn’s relationship was no secret around the kingdom. “Saved my life and I swore my sword to her. I swore to protect her daughters.”

_Pack sister, pack sister, pack sister._

“Well met, Lady Brienne.” Jon said, looking around for his sister. “I’m assuming you were the one who escorted my sister here.”

She hesitated before saying cryptically said, “I, among others.”

_Sister, sister, sister._

“You have my thanks.” Jon said, looking around. “Where is she.”

Brienne and the dark-haired woman looked at each other confused, “Right here.”

The girl tensed as she was pointed out. “Who are you?” Jon asked, head tilted.

“My lord.”

_Imposter!_

“I asked, who are you!” Jon said, advancing on this imposter pretending to be his sister.

_Traitor!_

“Snow!” Alys shouted as she, the wildling Karsi and the dark-haired woman got between him and the girl who backed away quickly.

“J-J-Jon.” The girl said, backing into a wall, teeth chattering and looking at a puddle of her own making. “I- I am sure you do not remember me from Winterfell but my name…”

“Jeyne. Jeyne Poole.” He said, remembering Sansa’s vapid friend from when he was growing up. The one who went to Kingslanding with the. It did not take a genius to figure out what had happened and what the Lannisters did with her. He held up a hand to show that he meant no harm. He walked over, keeping enough of a distance that he wouldn’t spook her and said, “They made you take Arya’s name to give the Bolton’s claim to the North?”

The girl furiously nodded Jon’s suggestion. “Do you know where Sansa or Arya are.”

She furiously shook her head “I don’t know about Arya. I heard Queen Cersei say she was probably…” she trailed off and Jon sucked in a deep breath, before slowly letting it out. He had been **_so_** close only to have his siblings ripped away. He got stabbed for a chance to get his siblings and nothing. Only Sansa was left, and gods knew where she was.

He then looked at the girl. His sister’s friend. The girl who gave him false hope. The girl who was brutalized because she was forced to pretend to be his sister. What would his father have done?

“House Poole, has been a loyal house to the Starks for years.” Jon said, trying to channel his father. “I may not be a Stark but I will make sure that you are taken care of. I promise you, Jeyne.”

The girl had tears streaming down her face before throwing herself at him in a hug. “I- I heard Littlefinger say that the Lannister’s never found her.” She added as a form of reassurance. “I-If anyone were to survive out there it would be Arya Underfoot.”

She tried smiling in a way to make him feel better but a split lip, broken tooth and frostbitten nose that made it clear what she went through he could not feel great about it. “Well I guess I’ll just have to talk to this Littlefinger about what he knows.”

“NO!” She semi shouted, before looking embarrassed. “Stay away from him. He’s horrible! Just as bad as Ramsay! Worse!”

“Ok.” He said, holding up his hands, causing her some relief.

“I’m embarrassed now.” Jeyne said, squirming. “Especially about…”

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” He interrupted, causing her minor panic, but he could see her brave it down.

“I’ll take her Crow.” Karsi said, walking over. “You can trust me to watch over her.”

“Are you sure Karsi?” Jon said, he officially said he would be responsible for the girl and he would not force responsibility on someone else. However, if she were to volunteer…

“Aye! Only been blessed with sons, always wanted a daughter!” She said, in a half hearted joke that made a look of horror passover Jeyne face.

“You can trust her, Jeyne.” Jon said, directly to the girl. After everything she has been through, he wasn’t about to force the issue, he would still take care of her like he promised. The girl put on a brave face and nodded her head.

“Dontcha worry, Crow.” Karsi said, throwing her arm around the girl’s shoulder. “I’ll take good care of her. How old are ya girl?”

“Al-Almost thirteen.” She said, and a dark look appeared on Karsi’s face. A false smile followed to put the girl at ease. “Crow, if you do not make that fucker pay when you take Winterfell…”

“I don’t know if I am going to take Winterfell.” Jon said, defeatedly sitting on the stairs of a walkway. “I was only going to do it because of Arya. Now…”

“They’re still out there.” The dark-haired woman said,

“I’m sorry you are?”

“Asha Greyjoy.” The woman said, and honestly between everything that has happened he was just to tired to be angry that a member of the family that ruined his was standing in front of him.

“They’re still out there,” Asha said, “They’re hiding because they have nowhere to go. Take back Winterfell, it’ll let them know they have somewhere to go, and your brothers and sisters will come back. Quit feeling sorry for yourself!”

“Well they don’t have somewhere to go because of your brother!” Jon said, standing up and forcing the now screaming wolf down. _PACK KILLER. ENEMY._ “He betrayed my brother, murdered my other brothers and burned down our home. No Greyjoy is going…”

“Th- They’re alive.” The old man said, continuously looking at the ground.

“What.”

“B-Bran and Rickon. They’re alive.” The old man said, again and Jon was furious. Who the hell was this? To even insinuate…

“Theon?” Jon asked in an incredulous voice. Jon could not stop himself as he lunged for the Turncloak’s throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will not be the last We see of Jeyne


	4. Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery reflects on her time in Kingslanding and ponders about events to come.

Margaery never realized quite how vapid her cousins were. No, vapid wasn’t the correct word for it. Stupid… Stupid was the word she was looking for.

“Elinor, I swear if I have to see your arse, bare or otherwise, one more time…” Margaery warned, as she watched her cousin pace around the room.

“This room is so small!” The girlchild trapped in a woman’s body whined. “Why are we in here? Why couldn’t we go back to the Red Keep, or Maegor’s Holdfast?”

“This was one of the concessions that Lord Tarly had to make to the faith.” Alla the youngest sighed, and Margaery had to concede that not all of her cousins were idiots.

If it were for Alla, Margaery doubted that she could’ve convinced the other two to stop from throwing the plain, drab dresses the faith gave them in the fire. Had they not listened she would have had to deal with her very naked cousins walking around the small room, as none of their belongings had been transferred. With all the ridiculousness of these gowns, both changing in and out, she had seen far too much of her cousins than she would like.

“I thought that all our accusers had recanted?” Megga said. “If we do not have any accusers, that means they have no evidence. Why do we even _need_ a trial?”

Which was a good point even though the “why” was pretty obvious. They were to made an example of; just like Cersei. Despite being completely mad, Margaery could not help but feel bad for the dowager queen. As much as this entire thing was her fault to begin with and as much as she deserved justice for everything she did, Margaery could tell that the walk of shame was a way to both bring her and any other women to heel. She hadn’t heard Lancel be forced to do the same despite the fact he did the _same exact thing_. No Margaery knew if not her cousins, Margaery herself would most certainly end up doing so.

“They want a trial by combat.” Margaery said, “To have the gods themselves prove that we are either innocent or guilty.”

Margaery couldn’t help but be nervous. She knew she was innocent… of what she was being accused of, but what good would that do if it came to trial by combat. The girls could all recommend Garlan for their champion, and the Gods know that there probably wasn’t anyone in the Seven Kingdoms that could beat Garlan in a duel. She was stuck with Kingsguard, however. Blout the coward or Trant the leg breaker were her only options and they were both useless in a real fight.

She was being punished she knew it. Stannis was the one who was the rightful king. Not that bag of piss and vinegar on legs Joffrey nor the shallow, self-centered Renly. Her family not standing with the man who was supposed to be king is what did their family, more specially her, in and she knew it. Then allowing Sansa to be falsely accused of Joffrey’s murder was the final nail in the coffin. The girl was innocent, and they used her and then abandoned her as soon as they couldn’t have what they wanted. Sometimes in the sun she sees a light brunette and the hair sometimes looks auburn or someone smiles and she remembers the rare ones she used to give and Marg feels guilty all over again. Oh, and they let Tyrion be accused too.

There was a knock on the door before her older brother Willas hobbled in. “Good morning ladies.”

“Welcome Lord Willas.” all the cousins said to their future liege lord. “I brought dresses for you to change into.”

“Ah you’re an envoy from the gods, cousin!” Elinor jumped up and started going through them.

“Ah, maybe you can go through them and change _after_ I leave?” Willas said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “It will not look very good that you decided to do that in front of me considering all of your charges.”

“Right.” Elinor said, said blushing and sitting back down causing Margaery to roll her eyes.

“Why are you here, Brother?” Margaery asked, suspicious. He should be in the Reach defending it from Ironborn, not in the Capital.

“My commitment to the faith is well know across the Seven Kingdoms.” Willas said, “Grandmother thought it would look better if I were up here defending you. Father and Garlan went back to the Reach to defend it. It certainly did not look great that our entire army is here.”

As her cousins tittered on in semi relief, Willas leaned in towards her. “Trust me little sister, we aren’t going to let you go down for this.”


	5. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gathers the Mountain clans in hopes of support.

  
“I can feel the nervousness bleeding off of you.” Val said, as they sat on their horses.

“I can’t help it.” Jon said, as he awaited the Mountain clans and Mormont’s to show up to the crofter’s town that was between the hills, and Bear Island.

Even if the Freefolk, Asha’s Ironborn and what was left of the Stormlanders helped him take back Winterfell it would be useless without the support of the actual Lords of the North. He didn’t need all of them, but he did need a few. From what Jeyne and Theon have said, the Greatjon was a prisoner in Winterfell so the Umbers most likely would not come to their cause. According to Alys, Arnolf Karstark had sided with Ramsay. That was two of the North’s most powerful houses, and that isn’t including the Ryswell’s, Hormwood’s or Dustin’s.

“Are you the son of the Ned?” A man wearing the sigil of House Flint, his Grandmother’s, Arya’s namesake’s house. He was followed by about ten other men none of which had house sigils with them

“Aye.” Jon said, “Thank you for coming.”

“You want Winterfell.” He said, eyes narrowing at Jon. Two more men wearing patches of Wull and Norrey arrived next.

“Yes.” Jon said, “But not for me. I will hold it until one of my siblings returns, although I may have to act as regent if one of my brothers shows up as they are both still young.”

“Brothers!” The man said, the others looked suspicious as well. As if Jon were trying to trick them into helping him.

“Yes, My Lord.” Jon said. “I promise you that this is no trick. I will explain inside but please know I do not plan on keeping Winterfell. It belongs to my siblings.”

“Aye.” The man from House Norrey said, “It is.”

A few hours later, representatives from Houses Liddle, Knott, Burley and Locke all arrived at the meeting place so they were only waiting for Lady Mormont. The leaders seemed to be getting along with what Freefolk, and Stormlanders he brought with him. They wisely left the Ironborn that Asha brought with her back at Castle Black, and hid Theon until they needed him.

“They seem to be getting along well.” Brienne said, walking up. She had wanted to go back out and look for his siblings, but she eventually was convinced of Asha’s reasoning the same as him. Searching the countryside for children, children she had never met and had no idea what they looked like, was a fruitless endeavor. Freeing Winterfell would draw them to her. She did not like it, but she accepted it. Especially after the fiasco with Jeyne.

“Well one thing that brings together all men, is drink.” Jon said, smirking at Tormund putting the others at ease with his drunken antics.

  
“Yes.” Brienne said, “That does seem to be true.”

“I am glad you convinced the remaining Stormlanders to join with us.” Jon said, trying to keep the conversation going. I doubt it was easy considering what Ramsay did.”

“Aye. Ser Horpe did a lot of helping there.” Brienne said, “Most of the men were mostly agreed since Ramsay Bolton started flaying their surrendering comrades alive.”

“Snow.” A Freefolk Skin-changer named Kneight came into the room. “Karne saw the girl and their party. They are less than a league out.”

Karne was the girl’s Bluejay partner. Most tried something more threatening, but the girl was young, Arya’s age probably a little bit older. When he left Castle Black he was no longer going after Ramsay to defend the Watch, so he no longer could bring any black brothers with him in good conscious. He unfortunately no longer had access to Satin as his own steward. When Kneight overheard Jon tell Val that he no longer had Satin and that he needed a Page or squire she volunteered quickly. Granted she did not truly know what a page was or what duties they performed, but she took it all in stride since finding out.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking around to see if anyone else had heard.

“Aye.” She said, nodding her head quickly causing her braid to bounce around. “There were about twenty of them. Wearing a patch of a bear and a patch of those metal gloves that kneeler warriors wear.”

It took Jon a moment before realizing that the Gauntlet was the sigil of House Glover.

“Lady Alys, did you send a message to Lord Glover?” Jon asked.

Alys’ face showed pure surprise. “No! I did not even realize that Lord Glover had been found.”

Galbert Glover and Maege Mormont both disappeared shortly before the Red Wedding. Lyanna and Jorelle Mormont had been taking control of Bear Island, and Robett Glover had been arranging the retaking of Deepwood Motte which was much easier since Asha had abandoned it to rescue Theon.

“Trap?” Alys asked.

“With only twenty men?” Jon asked, “I doubt it.”

He called to everyone to let them know so that the others arrived. The room calmed down as the Mormont/Glover contingent made their way into the Inn. Lord Glover looked surprised at the fact the mountain clans were there but recovered quickly enough. As everyone settled down, Jon went to the front of the room.

“Lets just on with it without the theatricality, shall we.” Little Lady Lyanna said, practically shouting. “You want our help to take Winterfell.”

Jon hesitated for a moment before saying, “I do.” He was a lot more nervous than he thought he would be but continued, “But make no mistake, I do not plan on keeping it. The second one of my siblings arrives I hand it over to them.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe that?” Lord Glover asked.

“Aye.” Jon said, honestly. “You all knew my father; you know what type of man he was. He instilled those same traits in me.”  
  


“Yet you left the Night’s Watch.” The man representing House Wull -Hugo- said, and Jon bit down a sigh. He knew this would come up he just didn’t think so soon. “You aren’t supposed to interfere with the politics of the rest of the Kingdoms.”

Jon remembered the last conversation he had with the mutineers before he announced his separation from the Watch. Before he hanged them.

_“If you have any last words, now would be the time to say them.” Jon said as he held Longclaw above the rope about to take these men’s lives._

_“You shouldn’t be alive!” Wick said. “It is not right!”_

_“Neither was killing me.” Jon said, sadly._

_“You broke your oath!” Allister Thorne spat back. “Don’t pretend to have the moral high ground. We are to stay_ outside _the affairs of the Realms of Men.”_

_“And how exactly are we supposed to do that!” Jon snapped. “The Realms of Men do not allow us to enact our neutrality. The Baratheon’s didn’t, gods know the Lannister’s didn’t, The Bolton’s threatened_ all _of us. I did not see you killing Janos Slynt when he came down here consistently claiming to be an envoy of Tywin Lannister. You are a liar, a coward, and a hypocrite.”_

_“At least we will be able to rest.” Thorne said, “But you Lord Snow, you’ll be fighten’ their battle forevah.”_

_Jon waited one last moment for anymore last words and swung his sword._

“The Night’s Watch Oath specifies that it lasts until I die.” Jon said, as he unlaced his tunic before opening it wide. “I have met said criteria.”

“What the hell happened to you boy?” Ondrew Locke said, knocking his chair back by standing up so rapidly. Brandon Norrey and Torghen Flint (Jon’s third cousin if he was remembering correctly) walked over and started poking the flames.

“They’re cold?” Brandon said, in confusion.

“Aye.” Jon said, then honestly added. “They can heat up, but I can’t control it.”

“My Lords.” Alys said, “You don’t know me very well yet. But I was there when Lord Snow was stabbed. I was also there when he came back, and the only thing I can think is that this is a sign from the gods. No other man could have survived what he went through unless he’s telling the truth.”

“My lords, I come to you now because we all lost someone at the Red Wedding.” Jon said. “Now the perpetrators are sitting in the home I grew up in. Holding the entire Kingdom of the North under their thumb. I already have the Stormlanders, Freefolk, and giants behind me to help take Winterfell. I need your help to get them out, and free the Lannister influence from the North. Then… I need your help to stop the true enemy.”

“True Enemy?” Hugo Wull asked.

“Giants!” Robett Glover exclaimed.

“Kneight, bring it in.” Jon said to his page as he looked back at the Lords and Ladies. “The Army of the Dead my lord. I know how it sounds but they are coming and there is nothing we can do to stop them. Not the Night’s Watch, not the Freefolk, not the Bolton’s. We cannot beat them without a united North, and we are never going to get that with the Bolton’s. Not when they’ve already helped wipe out Houses Cerwyn and Hornwood. Who will be next?”

As soon as he finished his speech, Tormund and two other wildlings led the former Master at Arms of Castle Black into the room as he snarled and thrashed. “This is the fate of every man woman and child, if we do not stop the White Walkers.” Jon said, leaving it at that.

It took a few moments of silence and Jon willed himself not to panic as they deliberated amongst themselves. If he could not convince them here, everything he had been through will have been for naught. Humanity was doom…

“We will fight for you.” Torghen Flint declared and numerous lords made their agreements. “But first, what did you mean by your brothers?”

“Kneight…” Jon said, but his page had already grabbed the Turncloak. “I know what you all are going to say…”

The entire room burst into pandemonium as Theon walked into the room. Once he bathed and they rubbed ink into his now pale locks of hair, the once arrogant ward of Ned Stark started looking like himself again.

“How can you let him live, Snow?” Ondrew shouted, “He killed you brothers!”

“He didn’t.” Jon said, “I’ve known this arrogant Jackass since I was five years old. I know when he is lying, and I know when he’s telling the truth. I do believe him when he said he did not kill Bran and Rickon,” although he is probably a Kinslayer, he and Robb have… had a bet going on whether that Miller’s second son was Theon’s bastard. “And even if he did do so, Winterfell belongs to my Sister Sansa.”

“We should execute him right here!” Morgan Liddle shouted, to other cheers.

“We can’t.” Jon insisted.

“Why not!”

“We need him.” Jon said, “He knows how to infiltrate Winterfell, undetected.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm mostly going by book ages so  
> Jon/Margaery-17  
> Val-19 (Made this up TBH)  
> Sansa-14  
> Jeyne/Kneight-13  
> Arya-12  
> Bran-11  
> Rickon-7


	6. Alayne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alayne makes new friends during her time at the Vale.

One of the things that Alayne missed most about her time in Winterfell was the companionship. She missed Beth, and more importantly she missed Jeyne. Beth may not have come with them to Kingslanding, but she still enjoyed the younger girl’s presence. It was truly Jeyne she missed. Jeyne was her constant, she spent more time with Jeyne than anyone _including_ her siblings. She hoped that wherever she was she was fine. Her hope was in vein as she knew exactly what the Lannister’s were capable of. She just hoped her death was quick…

However, she loved spending time with her new friends in the Vale. Myranda reminded her of a more… relaxed Margaery. Margaery always had to put up an appearance behind a wall. She showed off her strength and kindness and beauty behind a mask. Randa however was very open and jolly and pure fun. Meanwhile, Mya actually reminded her of very much of Arya. She would be quite an eye turner with her looks had she dressed like a lady. But she always wore trousers and tunics instead.

She quickly got a long with both girls and she quickly fell in with the other girls and since Myranda was already taking care of Sweetrobin they spent a lot of time together anyway. It doesn’t mean that spending time with them did not start trouble. Two wineskins later the three of them were stumbling down the corridor.

“I… I gotta ‘ell you Alayne…” Myranda slurred, as Mya held her up. “I can tell… you’re nervous…”

“Nervous?” Alayne asked confused.

“‘bout the bedding!” She said, causing Alayne to blush something fierce. “I can tell.”

“I know what to expect.” She said, trying to not shutter at the memory of the Bread Riot before the Battle of the Blackwater.

“That didn’ answer the question.” Myranda said, wagging her finger giving a dopey grin.

“Of course I’m nervous!” She exclaimed, and she was.

“Don’t be.” Myranda said, nudging Mya who reluctantly agreed.

“Harry does seem to know what he is doing…” Mya said, in a backhanded compliment causing Myranda to giggle.

“Yes, he does.” Myranda said, wagging his eyebrows. Then quickly added, “Not that I would know from personal experience.”  
  


  
“Of course not.” Alayne said, coolly. “He _is_ still walking around, after all.”

“Oh!” Myranda said, nudging Mya again. Alayne tried to not giggle at the fact that Mya looked as though she were about to toss Myranda over a wall. “I guess she does have claws!”

Alayne felt the fact that she held off a flinch at the inadvertent comparison to the Lannisters, meant that she was getting better at showing a mask. “Yes.”

“What are you nervous about?” Mya asked, “His reputation?”

“No.” She said, quickly. She had seen how Bastards were treated, both before with Jon (oh how she missed him) and now as Alayne. She would allow him a relationship with his _current_ children as long as more did not appear.

“Of course not!” Myranda said. “Just look at ‘er father. She must be used to men like that. What are you really nervous about?”

“I hear that… it hurts.” Alayne said, honestly. The way Septa Mordane talked about the bedding, she did not know how any woman was able to go back enough to have more children, or even enough times for a single child.

“Phf…” Myranda waved her off. “You heard that from Septas. Cunts so dried up they’re covered in dust. What do they know?”

“Randa!” Alayne and Mya both said scandalized.

“What? No, it hurts the first time.” Myranda said. “But women get as much pleasure in the marriage bed… if he knows what he is doing.”

“She is right. Harry does seem to know what he’s doing.” Mya repeated, “He is handsome as well.”

“Meh.” Alayne shrugged, “I guess.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I guess.” Alayne said, thinking of another person she did think was good looking. “Objectively.”

“There’s no one that who think is good looking?” Mya asked, “Someone in mind you wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with?”

“Maybe.” She said, cryptically so to get them to drop it.

“Trust me, Alayne…” Myranda said, narrowing her eyes. “If you really want to have fun in the marriage bed you need to…”

“Ladies!” Bronze Yohn Royce said, walking up to them cheek tinted pink over what a group of women young enough to be his daughters were speaking of. “Maybe this is not the best place to be speaking of… such things.”

“Yes, M’Lord.”

“Yes, Cousin.”  
“Yes, My Lord.”

The three ducked their heads as they walked back to Alayne’s room. “Pardon me, My Lord.” Alayne said, running into the lord in her haste to get out of that hallway as soon as possible. Lord Royce’s eyes widened looking at her as she walked away.

A few moments later all three women were back in Alayne’s room. As they walked in, Sansa glared at Myranda. “Had I known _that’s_ what you planned on talking about to draw out Lord Royce I would have never agreed!”

“I know!” Myranda said, grinning widely. “That’s why I made you say it during the plan! So, who is it that you want to bed? I had to convince Mya that you were really a Septa and had _those_ wants.”

Sansa sighed as her friend looked to continue before Mya cut her off. “But it did work though?”

“Yes.” Sansa said, “I was able to slip Lord Royce the note, although the looks he gives me I think he knows or suspects I am not who I say I am.”

It honestly was the funniest thing. She looked a little too much like her Aunt Lysa and there had always been rumors about her late aunt and the Vale’s newest lord protector. It had even been rumored that she had been pregnant with said lord protector’s daughter (one she could confirm). The two of them decided to corner her and ask about her parentage.

What they did not expect however was for her to slip and reveal that no she was not the natural daughter of Petyr Baelish and Lysa. But that she was the lost daughter and heir of Winterfell, Sansa Stark. Luckily, they both agreed to help keep her secret. Realizing that she had allies that she could truly trust she began plans to stop Littlefinger. He killed her Aunt Lysa, he was going to kill her cousin.

“Currently your cousin is the only one we can trust.” Sansa said. “He’s won over too many of the other Lord Declarants.”

“What are we going to do?” Mya asked.

“I have a plan.” Sansa said, as she heard Myranda grumble. “Don’t think I forgot you admitted there’s someone you fancy.”

“What does this plan involve?” Mya asked.

“Well we need to do this before we leave the Eyrie.” Sansa said, gears in her head turning.


	7. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a new Adviser to aid his army.

“House Mazin pledged seven and thirty men to our cause.” Jon said, walking into their tent.

“How many houses does that make now?” Val asked, from under the furs.

“Houses Glover, Mazin, Mormont, Marsh, Ironsmith, and Forester.” Jon said, sitting down and taking his boots off. “And then Clans Locke, Flint, Wull, Liddle and Norrey. Together they bring about twenty-one hundred men together. That’s what I expected from the Clans alone.”

“Nothing from that Port Lord?” She asked, remembering the brief run down of the houses of the North.

“No.” Jon said, thinking about the Manderly’s. He truly could not blame them; they were the most Southern house. Any retaliation would hit them first.

“Cowards, the lot of them.” Val said, holding up the covers for Jon to slip in.

“What are you doing…” Jon asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Val sighed, “I want you, Jon Snow. I know you obviously want me too. I do not know what your hang up is but just get in and stop trying to change the subject.”

“I cannot blame any of them.” Jon said, sliding in as Val curled into his side. “Even the ones who are sending me men are sending about half. If they’re found helping me who knows what can happen to them. Especially since they wouldn’t be fighting for a real Stark.”

Val sighed as she said, “Go to sleep, Jon. You’ll run yourself ragged.”

Jon sighed and closed his eyes. Not even a moment later Kneight walked into their tent. “Hey, Crow. There’s a man ‘ere says he knows you, wants to talk.”

“What’s his name?” Jon sighed, as he twisted off the bed.

“Ser Brandon.” Kneight said, and a look on her face showed that she was not entirely sure. A moment later she nodded and said, “Yes, Ser Brandon.” Proud of herself.

Jon squinted as her put his boots back on. He did not know a Ser Brandon. No one from the watch had that name nor did Stannis. Brandon was a common Northern name, but Knighthood was very rare in the North. He could name probably all of them on one hand. Also, he did not know any living Brandon, other than his brother. None the less, the man came to speak to him. “Is he alone?”

“He brought five men with him.” She said, her eyes flashing white for a moment. “Karne tracked them back to where they came from, they have a lot more staying back though.”

“Thank you.” Jon said, standing up allowing Val out to get dressed herself. “You can go to bed Kneight.”

“Hell no.” She said, “This is exciting!”

Jon sighed as she started bouncing in excitement. “Let’s go, Jon Snow.” Val said, from behind him.

Walking from their tent, Jon saw the man that seemed to be the leader of the small group looking for him. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and Jon was sure that he had never seen before. Val gave him a look at his confused expression but didn’t say anything.

“You Snow?” The man asked.

“Yes, and you a…” Jon began, but before he could say finish the man’s fist shot out and struck him across the nose. “What the fuck was that for!”

“You taking what doesn’t belong to you.” The man said, and as Jon’s vision cleared up, he saw that Val had her spear at his throat. His allies all reached for their weapons but the Wildlings, and men wearing Glover , Caron, and Ironsmith colors all had weapons out as a sign to drop theirs.

“I don’t know what you think I did _Ser_.” Jon said, starting to stand up. “But I am no thief. Now, who the fuck are you?”

“Brynden Tully.” The man growled. “Cat always was worried…”

“Catelyn Tully…” Jon snapped, before holding himself back. He took a deep breath before saying, “Was probably the only person more protective of my siblings than I. I have no intention to hold Winterfell. If I take Winterfell back, they will know they no longer need to hide.”

“And I should believe that from a deserter why?” The Blackfish asked, glaring at him.

“Frankly?” Jon asked. “I don’t give a shit whether you do or not. I don’t need to explain myself to a Tully.”

The man growled but Val put pressure on his throat through the spear, so he did not step forward. “I’m going to fight to get my home back. When my siblings know that they have somewhere to go, they will come. Either you’re here to help me or you are not. If you aren’t, get the hell out.”

The Blackfish glared for a moment, before holding out his hand. “I don’t like you.” He said. “But I will help you, a few Riverland houses sent men to help. Not a lot, but enough. They heard what that shit stain on legs have been doing to their ledge lord’s granddaughter.”

“It wasn’t Arya.” Jon said, remembering Jeyne’s stories. “It was one of Sansa’s friends who would be able to believably give answers about her time in Winterfell. That’s why I am here now. Now that Ramsay has no hostages, I’m no longer worried about him harming my sister in retaliation.”

“What’s the plan?” Ser Brynden asked, and Jon was silently cheering in his head. The Blackfish was a more than Legendary knight, akin to Ser Arthur Dayne or the Aemon the Dragonknight. His brother chose him to be a top advisor in his army and he would be a boon.

Hours later Jon was able to get back to sleep. Val, the traitor that she was, was able to go to bed not to soon after the Blackfish arrived so at least the bed was warm in his tent. “Val, shift over.” Jon said, pushing her shoulder a little bit.

“Ugggg…” She groaned. “Do whatever you want to me just don’t wake me up.”

“What?” Jon asked, incredulously before Tormund came screaming at his tent. Jon sighed at the fact that ever since leading the Freefolk, Ironborn, and Stormlanders south it seemed that he never seemed to have a moment to breathe.

“What Tormund.” Jon sighed.

“Those crazy Slayers are headed this way.” Tormund said, “With a white flag.”


	8. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Northern Alliance meets with Ramsay Sn... Bolton

Jon’s trotted up to where Ramsay Snow, his lackey’s, and a dozen other men-at-arms and Officers of Ramsay’s army were waiting for him. He was standing at the top of a hill and Jon knew why many people talked about the bastard’s arrogance when he saw the smug look on his face. It was no secret that Jon was putting together an army, but he had hoped that he had more time before this confrontation.

Numerous Lords and Clan chiefs that were following him wanted to ride with him, but Jon insisted on as few as possible. These men were putting their lives on the line to aid him. Things seemed to be going poorly for them already and he knew what Ramsay was like, he did not want any of the Northern Lords aiding him to be in his crosshairs. Also as an act of pragmatic standpoint he did not need to let Ramsay know quite how many people who were supporting Jon to keep it a surprise.

Jon reluctantly lead the group of Val, Kneight, Alys Karstark, the Blackfish and his squire, Torghen Flint, and little Lady Lyanna Mormont (who could not be dissuaded) up to the hill that the Bolton loyalists. Jon glared up at the hill wondering if the man who thrust a knife in his brother’s heart was up there as well. The Smug look on the lead man let Jon know that it could only be Ramsay Snow.

“Funny.” Torghen said, from Jon’s side. Jon way starting to enjoy spending time with the older man who was a semi distant cousin through Jon’s great grandmother. “I figured that he would be to busy making necklaces out of human ears and tongues.”

Jon tried not to laugh because he knew it to be true which he did not know if that made it funnier or less. 

“Aye.” The Blackfish said. “He’s a mad dog, it is Roose Bolton that we have to worry about. I do not see his pale pasty arse there that is not good.”

“He probably did so with out asking his father.” Lady Lyanna said, matching pace with the Blackfish “It is an open secret around the North that he is unable to keep his bastard in check.”

“Good.” Jon said, formulating a plan in his head. “Maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

Jon and his people all arrived at the hill to see Ramsey and his men all waiting for them. It was a group bigger than his surrounded by even more guards. Looking around Jon recognized most of them unfortunately. Directly to Ramsay’s right was the Bolton’s most loyal bannerman Ludd Whitehill who help destroy House Forrester, one of House Stark’s most loyal bannermen. Anolf Karstark the man who betrayed Alys, judging by the girl’s dirty looks, was right behind Ramsay and it seemed as if most of the guards that were brought were decidedly _not_ Karstark men. At least someone had enough common sense to know he was bringing the true heir to Karhold with him so they did not want conflicting loyalties brought up in this meeting.

Rounding out the group were Rodrik and Roger Ryswell along with Barbrey Dustin, their daughter and sister respectively. They had also brought along the Dustin’s bannerman Harwood Stout. This group of bannermen was unsurprising. Bethany Ryswell had been married to Roose and Barbrey hated his father. He knew about his uncle’s reputation and his history with the woman. He did not even bother sending missives to them. A man from House Crowl also showed up looking to get good grace with the new lords of Winterfell. What truly surprised him however was Two members wearing emblems of House Frey, the family that murdered his Brother. Jon narrowed his eyes as he realized quite how much the Blackfish's squire looked like them.

“Ah, the bastard!” Ramsay said, as the group finally arrived. “Thank you for returning my wife and thank you for bringing my Reek.” He said, despite the quite clearly not being there.

“Where’s your father, bastard?” The Blackfish snapped. “We wish to speak with a real grown up.”

Ramsay paused, and something flickered over his face before looking back at Jon. “Unfortunately, my father and his new wife have passed away from an animal attack. I am the new lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Now get down off your horse and kneel, bastard. I will pardon you for desertion and I will pardon your treasonous lords. After all, I am a man of mercy.”

Jon exchanged looks with all the others that he came with and could tell that none of the others were willing to surrender to Ramsay. Everyone heard the Turncloak’s tale of what happened to the Ironborn from Moat Cailin after they surrendered as no person wanted to go through that.

“Come on, bastard.” Ramsay said, smirk growing on his face “I have 7,000 men, men from the Frey’s, the Sellswords that abandoned Stannis. I have 3,000 horse and the support nearly a dozen Northern and Riverlands lords, not to mention Winterfell. You have… what? Half that? Not even? You cannot _hope_ to win. Why lead those men into slaughter?”

Jon’s eyes met Val’s and he spoke. “You’re right. There’s no reason for thousands of men to die. Just two.” Jon said, and the Bastard of Bolton looked shocked. “Let’s settle this the old way. You and me.”

Numerous emotions passed through the monster’s face. Mostly anger, hatred and unless Jon was mistaken fear.

“Oh, ho ho!” He said, “You are good. But I have heard things about you bastard. The way people talk they’d think you’d to be the greatest swordsman to walk the earth! No… I don’t...”

“It doesn’t have to be him.” Val said, even among the Freefolk combat by champion was fairly common. “He can pick someone to fight for him. Unless you’re to scared to fight a woman, who isn’t naked, unarmed and alone while you have a bow in your hand and dogs at your back?”

“Oh, this must be the Wilding Princess I have heard so much about!” Ramsay said, chuckling in false joy. Then with a wink he added, “I can see why you gave up your vows to plow this particular field.”

“No,” Ramsay said, getting a fake look of ponderance on his face to make himself seem more intelligent than he was. “No, I don’t think I will fight you nor your Wildling whore. I may be able to beat you, maybe not. But I do know my army would be able to beat yours. Not to mention I have the greater claim to Winterfell.”

“We both know that girl was not my sister.” Jon snapped, unable to put up with the Mummer’s farce any longer. “You have no claim to Winterfell! The girl you marry was the daughter of Winterfell’s Steward, she was not my sister.”

The entire Bolton party froze as they realized the implication of what Jon just said. Had the bastard truly married Arya, the last living trueborn child of Ned Stark they could not truly disobey. At least not publicly. Now that the bastard that everyone hated was revealed to have no claim to Winterfell, all his men-at-arms did not seem to think that following him was a good idea.

“Maybe she is not truly your sister.” Ramsay said, shrugging. Then he let out a shit eating grin and pointed towards the walls of Winterfell. “But is that truly not your brother?”

Every muscle in Jon’s body stiffened at his words. Arnolf Karstark tossed him a looking glass and Jon looking towards the only true home that Jon had ever known. On the wall was his baby brother Rickon, with his neck surrounded by a noose. Next to him was the severed head of Wyman Manderly.

_Pack mate. Pack mate. Pack mate._

“Do you like that Bastard?” Ramsay asked, “I received the presentation idea from your old friend Theon.”

_Little brother. Little brother. Little brother_

“What do you do to Lord Manderly?” Jon snapped, at the death of one his father’s most loyal bannermen. IF he spoke of Rickon he did not know what he would do to the bastard, flag of truce or no. It was all he could manage to stop his inner wolf from making him tear Ramsay’s throat out as it was.

“He thought to hide your brother from me.” Ramsay said, the Dustin’s and Ryswell’s both looked surprised at Jon’s intrusion. They both looked back towards the Wall. “Lord to-fat-to-sit-on-a-horse made quite a few fun noises as I separated the skin from his body. The same thing that will happened to any of the Lords that are found supporting you. Except you Bastard. You and your wildling whore. You… well my hounds have not eaten in several days. I wonder what they’ll go for first on you? Throat? Balls?”

“And me?” Val asked, a feral grin on her face.

“Well obviously I have been lied to!” Ramsay said, playing up theatricality. “The girl that I married obviously is far below me. I will need a new wife! I don’t see any better than an actual Wildling Princess!”

A few members of the group flinched as they have all heard what Ramsay did to Jeyne Poole. Jon’s vision went blurry so that he could only see blobs of color

_He threatened your littermate. He threated your wolfmate. Tear his throat out. Show dominance **now.** Show all these lords, you are the alpha! Not your siblings. Not the bastard. Not these lords. You! You are the Alpha!_

“Do make your decision soon Bastard.” Ramsay said, interrupted Jon’s inner thoughts starting to turn around. “I won’t wait forever.”

As the party started to gather up to leave Alys shout, “Uncle!”

Arnolf Karstark turned around to face his niece. “I reached my Ten and Seven name-day a fortnight ago.” As the cancerous old man grumbled. “Meaning I do not need a regent. So any _loyal_ Karstark men should know siding with Ramsay Snow is betraying their liege.”

Jon (and seemingly the Ryswell's) admired the girl’s boldness as the Karstark guards who did come started exchanging looks. Jon admired the effort but knew that any who tried to repeat what was said here would end up with the same fate as both the Ironborn and Lord Manderly. That is if Ramsay did not decide to do it to all of them anyway, just to make sure that they did not speak.

“ _I_ am their liege My Lady.” Ramsay said, smirk once again appearing on his face. What Jon would not give to wipe it off.

“Dammit!” Jon yelled, storming into their tent and flipping the table they were using for strategizing.

“Calm down!” The Blackfish snapped.

“Calm down?” Jon asked incredulously. “You want me to calm down? Rickon, my little brother, _your nephew,_ is in the hands of that monster!”

“Aye.” He said, “And he isn’t the first nephew as a hostage I’ve dealt with. Only that time I had the opposite problem. They were never going to hurt Edmure no matter what I did. Now this twisted fuck is going to kill Rickon either way. We act like fools we walk right into their trap.”

“So you’re saying we should just leave him at Ramsay’s mercy?” Jon snapped, before Lord Nicast Ironsmith rushed into the tent.

“My Lord, there are some people here to see you.” He said in a rushed breath.

“I’m not a lord.” Jon said, before adding “Did he say who he was?”

“Ser Davos Seaworth and Ser Willis Manderly.” He said, and Jon rushed out of the tent. As soon as he cleared the tent flaps, he was tackled by a mass of black furr.

“Shaggy!” A flustered Jon snapped, and the wolf bounced off and rushed over to Ghost and the littermates started playing together.

“Jon,” Davos said, hoisting the younger man up. “Good to see ya lad.”  
  
  


“You as well Ser Davos.” Jon said. “I’m sorry about Stannis.”

“Aye.” Davos said, “He was a good man. He did not deserve to go out like he did. Betrayed by the very men he was trying to help.”

“My uncle cares for one person only.” Alys said. “Himself. He never wanted your King's help. He allied with Stannis to get my brother executed by the Lannister’s to give himself power over Karhold. As soon as he got that he betrayed your King for the better option of the Bolton’s. _They_ would let him steal my birthright. Stannis' sense of honor never would have let him do that.”

“Aye.” Jon said, “Where have you been? I never thought I’d see you very far from Stannis?”

“Lord Seaworth was on a secret mission from my father.” Willis Manderly said, “We told him that we would fight for King Stannis if he put a proper Stark back in Winterfell. We remember our oaths. I’ve brought you 2,000 men. My father made sure I knew even if he fell, we fight for House Stark, now and forever!”

Jon nodded at the man’s devotion as numerous Northern lords cheered in agreement. A man with an eye-patch walked up and continued. “And he is not the only one. Many Riverlands lords sent a small number of men when it turned out that Eddard Stark’s son was trying to take back the North and avenge the Red Wedding.”

“I’m sorry… You are?” Jon asked, and the man stuck his hand out.

“Lord Beric Dondarrion, of the Brotherhood without Banners.” He said, “before he died you father sent me out on a mission to protect the small folk. I’ve been doing this ever since. I don’t see any other danger more of a threat to the Smallfolk than the bastard of Bolton.”

“Aye.” Lord Ironsmith said. “Bastard would start picking off all the smallfolk around his own lands for fun, then wonder why he had no one to do the upkeep around him.”

“Wait, you said men from the Riverlands came up here? How? The Bolton’s still control Moat Cailin.” Alys asked, walking up with more lords.

“With help from the Crannog men.” A short man said, walking from behind the group. “Jon, it a pleasure. Lord Howland Reed.”

Jon’s eyes widened at the man who saved his father’s life at the Tower of Joy. He stuck his hand out quickly. “Lord Reed! It is an honor!”

Howland tilted his head and then whispered “By the gods, you look just like her.” 

“Her?” Jon said, eyes widened. Lord Reed has known he father for a long time, could the “her” he spoke of been…

“Lady Lyanna.” He said simply.

“Oh.” Jon said surprised. “No one ever told me that I looked like my aunt before.”

“Yes.” Howland said, then smirk as if he were telling a joke that only he knew the punchline too. “You look much more like Lyanna than your father.”

“My lords, your support is a boon.” Jon began talking to the gathering of Northerners, Riverlanders, Stormlands, Freefolk and Ironborn. “But we do not have the men to take Winterfell, my plan was to take the Bolton forces by surprise. I do not wish to throw lives away in hopes of winning a battle that cannot be won. We have other things to worry…”

“Screw that Snow!” Alys said. “We need to make a stand here! The Bolton’s, the Lannister’s, the Tyrell’s, the Frey’s, my uncle, all of ‘em pissed on tradition and the laws of gods and men when it suited them. If we step back now it sends the message that no one will stop it from continuously happening over and over.”

“Aye.” Lord Glover said, walking up. “My men fight not only for Revenge, but because a son of Eddard Stark is leading us. They know what we are going into and they know that you would not risk our lives very willingly.”

“Ned raised you and he raised you well.” Howland Reed said, however a queer look passed over his face as he said this. “Make no mistake, you are his son. The crannog men will follow your lead.”

Jon looked around and saw that most of the lords around him were looking at him expectantly and he tried not to panic. Is this what his father felt like all the time? Is this what _Robb_ felt like? Jon was barely more than a child, and all these men and women were looking to him for the answers.

“Alright… I need all my lords in my command tent in an hour.” Jon said, looking at Val who had a sly grin directed at him before she walked back into their tent. The Direwolf in him was howling as he had a feeling he knew what she was planning. “We’ll talk about our plans for a siege.”

“Siege?” The Blackfish asked incredulously. “Sieging Winterfell?”

“We have… Unconventional Siege weapons.” Jon said trying not smile at the fact as most of the Southern, hell most of the Northern lords have yet to see Wun-Wun nor Bom-Mir who recently join his fellow Giant in Jon’s new allied army. “Which I shall explain in more detail when I see you there, My Lords.”

As the lords broke apart as Jon speed walked to his tent. As he slightly bent over to get through the flaps to be greeted by he white fox skins clothes in a heap on the ground. He looked up to see Val naked as the day she was born. She was facing away from him, her hair cascading down her back though thankfully stopping before it covered her arse.

“You said an hour Crow?” She said, looking over her shoulder. Jon knew that while she would never admit to this out loud -else he Freefolk elders would turn over in their graves… at least he hoped they were still in graves- that she was extremely turned on by him taking charge. He smelt her arousal from across the pavilion. “I think that gives us more than enough time.”


	9. The Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Frey's celebrate their victory at Riverrun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, work has been nutso and it did not allow me to write very much. This was supposed to be a few chapters later but I had it written already and it doesn't spoil anything for unposted chapters so here you go.
> 
> Chapter Warning: This chapter is a little rough, mentions of sexual assault and violent death. If you would like to skip over it there will be a recap in the

Things were good for Black Walder. Emmon was out of his hair and in Riverrun and he and Lothar, spineless twit, had the Twins all to themselves. Yes, with his cunning and Lothar’s intelligence House Frey would be a name that people remember for a long, long time. They would be the ones to run House Frey once the old man finally dropped dead. It was time for a celebration.

  


“You girl!” He snapped at a lone Serving Girl. She looked around panicked before looking back at him. “Come with me.”

  


Once they were alone, he turned to her. “How old are you girl?”

  


“Almost 13, My Lord.” She said, and he could tell she figured out what he wanted. She looked down ashamed as he grabbed her one of her breasts.

  


Pulling her over to where he could sit down, he started groping her in earnest. “And are you a maiden?”

  


“Y-Yes My Lord.”

  


“Why don’t we change that?” He said, unlacing her trousers.

  


“No thank you, My Lord.” She said and he snapped.

  


“Do you think that was an offer!” He said, “Now shut up and take your pants…”

  


He stopped talking as he felt the knife go into his bowels. He tried to say something to her, but only gurgled cries rang out. “I see you truly are brave.” The girl said. “Going after little girls. Slitting defenseless woman’s throats from behind.”

  


To Black Walder’s horror the girl then started peeling her face off. “My name is Arya Stark of Winterfell.” His eyes widened in terror. “You slit my mother’s throat and watched as she drowned in her own blood. You may have moved up my plans, but I can manage.”

  


Black Walder’s eyes widened and another knife slipped up under his jaw and pinned his tongue to the roof of his mouth before he could correct her. “Now let’s have some fun.”

  


  


  


~~~

  


Arya watched as the men and women of House Frey started coughing and vomiting. She resisted the urge to smile as she saw Emmon Frey, the man who took her family on her mother’s side’s home, actually start to bleed from his eyes and nose. The fat Lady Genna, Lord Tywin’s own sister fell down right at Arya’s feet, vomiting and shitting all over herself. “ _Hmmph_.” She thought to herself resisting the urge to not pinch her nose, “ _I guess Lannister’s don’t shit gold after all.”_

  


Arya started to walk away as the Frey’s were preoccupied. The unfortunate thing about poisons was that in a mass execution like this there was no way to truly kill off everyone at the same time. Every person’s body took to the chemicals in the poisons in different ways. Especially since not everyone drank the same amount of the poisoned wine as the others.

  


For example, Emmon was skinnier as an Adult than Arya was at nearly twelve so he would not be making it out of this hall. Meanwhile Fat Lady Genna probably would be no worse for wear than if she had food poisoning. Most of the more weaselly looking Frey’s would not make it out of this but she did not kill them all.

  


However, her priority was not to kill all the Frey’s. At least not now. Robb’s bannermen were trapped in the Twins and she needed to rescue them. They were their bannermen and it was the Stark’s job to protect them.

  


“I want you all to know, the North Remembers.” she said. “You should remember as well. Remember that Winter came for House Frey.”

  


As she made her way to the dungeons many guards saw her and moved out of the way. As her time undercover as a serving girl she knew none of the guards nor servants liked the Frey’s. The Smallfolk hated them. The Lannister’s as monstrous as they were, did what they did during wartime. The War of the Five Kings had been over for near a year now and they were still treating the citizens of the Riverlands as their personal whipping boys. No one stood up to them because they had Hostages. But now… No one would be upset to see them die.

  


“Move.” Arya said in the gruff wheezing voice of the Late, in both senses of the word, Walder Frey. Both guards moved from the doors and Arya held out her hand. “Keys.”

  


“M’lord?” He said.

  


“Did I stutter?” She barked. “Now give me the damned key before I make you wish that your father finished onto your mother’s chest.”

  


The guard opened the door and gave Arya the key. “Now scram. I don’t want to look at your pathetic faces.”

  


Both guards, whether it be fear or not wanting to actually work fled quickly.

  


She stopped at the first cell in the horribly lit cell block. A man could go mad in here from all the darkeness. “Name?”

  


“What?” The boy in the first cell that she came across asked looking confused. He was fairly clean and, even as young as he is, was to well shaven for him to have been there long.

  


“Just tell me your damned name!” She snapped.

  


“Hoster Blackwood.” He said, eyeing her with suspicion. “You already knew that when I was brought in…”

  


“Just shut up and tell me where the rest of the Hostages are.” She snapped.

  


“What how do you…”  
  


“That’s not Walder Frey, Hoster.” A man said, leaning on the cell bars. “Did you not hear the screams from upstairs?”

  


“So?” The boy asked.

  


“It means that he probably killed him them?” A man wearing the Mallister sigil said, “I’m guessing faceless man?”

  


“Faceless Woman.” Arya corrected, to an impressed Lord Mallister. “Now help me get all of the rest of the prisoners out. And start lighting some damned torches!”

  


When his cell was opened Patrek Mallister dragged her drugged Uncle Edmure out over his shoulder. Worry must’ve passed over Arya’s face as Patrek then said, “They were not happy that he helped the Blackfish exscape.”

  


There were three other lord hostages not including her Uncle and the Lord she already interacted with who came out when they were finally finished. “Is that everyone?”

  


“Our Lady is in the Cell down there.” A man wearing a naked lady on his chest pointed and Arya walked over. She shouldn’t be surprised that Walder Frey would stoop so low as to imprison his own family. A man who broke guest right will never have any morals.

  


“Lady Roslin.” Arya said, walking over shaking her awake. “We need to go; you aren’t safe here.”

  


The blob under the covers backed away from her in fear and Arya should have known that she would get this reaction. “Apologies My Lady.” She said, peeling off her mask. “There is no need to fear, this may look frightening, but it is not”

  


Her aunt by law tilted her head, “I will not hurt you.” Arya assured her, “I am Edmure’s niece Arya.”

  


The woman’s hand shot out and grabbed Arya’s face, pulling her in closer to get a better look. Before Arya could get annoyed at being man handled, she stiffened in horror.

  


“Mama?” She whispered at the familiar blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary: Black Walder finds Arya dressed as a serving girl and attempts to rape her before she guts him. Arya then poisons the Frey's but is not 100% successful only killing a chunk of them while making the rest violently sick. When freeing Robb's bannermen she finds Catelyn in a cell.
> 
> I’ve started the next few chapters, one on Cersei’s trial, and the other on the beginning of the Battle of the Bastards which one would everyone like to see first?


	10. Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei's trial begins!

Margaery was not surprised that the Faith dragged her to see the Queen Mother’s trial. The fact that the Faith could drag what was probably the highest of nobility in front of the gods and anyone. It was not just a message to the entire seven kingdoms but to Margaery herself. “ _Admit your guilt. Show the Seven Kingdoms who truly has the power.”_ Was all Margaery could hear as they were brought to the arena where Cersei’s trial by combat would be taking place.

She tried not to shutter at the memory of the last time she was here. The Dornish Prince’s skull caved in, Tyrion the man on trial because of her vomiting all over himself. She hoped that whoever the faith picked to represent them would not find themselves in the same fate. Everyone knew exactly who this “Robert Strong” was.

She knew that the woman would be found innocent even if she was guilty as all of the hells. Then again, Margaery was trying to prove herself innocent of crimes that she did commit. The accurate comparison to Cersei did not sit well with the would-be queen.

“Your father is here, Marg.” Ellinor said, pointing across the stadium to Margaery’s shock. Then again, she should not be surprised. Her father was on the Small Council and would have to be there. Willas, her mother and the Redwyne twins (recently found innocent) all showed up as well. She smiled as every member of her family in King’s Landing showed up to watch Cersei get her comeuppance.

“We are gathered here today to ascertain the Guilt or Innocence of Queen Cersei, of House Lannister.” The High Sparrow said, walking onto the arena. “As a trial before the gods we know that the Seven Who Are One will not steer us wrongly. May the Father see that true Justice is carrid out. May the Warrior lend his strength to the arm of the man whose cause is just. Finally, may the Mother grant mercy to the man whose is not.”

Cersei stood off to the side as the sick Former Maester Qyburn tended to the thing who would be fighting for Cersei. He stood by polishing his armor and giving him a potion before the Man stood up and swung his great sword a few times to be ready.

“May I ask you is fighting for her grace?” The High Sparrow aasked, Qyburn.

The Queen’s right-hand man answered, “Ser Robert Strong. A man sworn in his duty.” The High Sparrow gave a smile that let everyone know that he was not fooled, not for a moment. “And which one of your Warrior’s sons will be championing the faith?”

Margaery would give anything to wipe that smug look off the chainless maester’s face. He was so confident that his man would win that he saw no other possibility.

“In a former life…” The High Sparrow started as the man in the Rainbow Cloak stepped into the arena. Margaery’s jaw dropped as she saw him. She recognized him easy enough, Sansa did speak of him often enough and even without that he was mighty recognizable. “… He was known as Sandor Clegane.”

“That man is a coward and a deserter!” Cersei screamed, her new hair cut framed her face so it was much more obviously pointed out when it drained of color. “He should be at the end of a noose not…”

“Sandor has repented his crimes against the gods and his king. As all who ask for it, he has been given a chance to be forgiven.” The High Sparrow said.

Margaery actually felt hope. Loras told her about the tourney honoring Sansa’s father and how he nearly was killed by the Mountain had the man’s younger brother not shown up. IF there was anyone who might show a chance of stopping the monster, both in the figurative and literally meaning of the word, it would be Sandor Clegane.

As both men stepped into the arena, Sandor said, “Yeah. I know you recognize me.”

Gregor took his sword and started swinging at Sandor and the younger brother continuously took the blows on his shield with the Rainbow sword on it. “I did not say begin yet!” The High Sparrow screamed but it did not matter.

The two brothers were like a pair of dogs. Once they started fighting no man could get them to separate. Gregor was much too crazed; Sandor hated his brother far too much. There was only one way that this would… _could_ possibly end. One man dead or the other.

Sandor is what surprised Margaery. His hatred for his brother was legendary. Everyone knew what truly happened that night. Yet, while Gregor was swinging like a man possessed, Sandor just took it all on his shield. It must be hurting him to continuously take those blows. Eventually a blow hit him hard enough that he sprawled in the dirt.

A man in robes walked over to Sandor and knelt by him. “Remember Sandor, violence does not have to define you. But it is part of this world. Do the right thing with it. Protect those would not be able to protect themselves if you lose.”

This seemed to reinvigorate Clegane and he stood up and finally drew his sword. “Come on ya cunt.” He said, under his breath. “Let’s get this over with.”

When the sword play finally began Margaery’s eyes widened as she realized she could not keep up. She had watched Loras and Garlan (and Willas a long, _long_ time ago) use blades for nearly all her life and not many could match them in a fight. But these two… despite their size, Margaery could not keep up.

Finally, the fight started slowing down. Sandor seemed to realize that he could not beat his brother with brute force alone and braced his feet for impact. Gregor swung downwards towards his head, but Sandor caught the blow on his shield and redirected it downwards. As soon struck home and inbedded itself in the Hound’s side, Sandor jammed the side of his blade into the side of his older brother’s neck and swung upwards causing the entire stadium to gasp.

For the second time in her life she saw the Mountain stumble. His sword dropped into the dirt as he grabbed the side of his neck, blackish-green oozed from the wound. “Yeah,” Sandor grumbled to himself as he limped over to what was left of his brother. “That _would_ be too easy.”

Struggling Sandor raised his mighty blade over his head and quickly brought the blade down; toppling the Mountain for good.

Numerous cheers let out as men and women jumped up and down. The Mountain was a well know figure in Westeros, much more hated than feared. The smallfolk may not know _how_ Gregor survived but no one was fooled that this “Robert Strong” was him. People walked up to him and congratulated him on his victory. The Hound may not have been a well like figure, but now he would be the stuff of legends.

If he survived that was. Ellinor gasped besides her as Sandor fell to one knee. The wound he was given by his brother was deep but survivable if he was taken to a maester, which the Militant was doing as they laid the big man out on a litter, one that took eight people to lift.

The cheers and screams of the people did not die down so the High Sparrow would not be able to make yet another long-winded speech for a moment. Instead Margaery looked for Cersei to see the queen’s reaction… only to not be able to find her.

“No, no, no, no!” Margaery said to herself as she ran from the arena. The bitch was trying to escape.

“Margaery you cannot leave!” Alla said, chasing after her.

“I am not letting her get away!” Margaery said, as her cousin trailed after her.

“Cersei!” She yelled as she saw the woman, Qyburn and Ser Boros Blout trying to sneak away. “Where do you think you are going?”

“Go away you worthless upstart bitch!” Cersei hissed as Qyburn tried to drag the woman away.

“You don’t think they won’t know where you are going?” Margaery asked incredulously. She knew Cersei was stupid and underestimated anyone who was not herself, but this was a whole new low.

“I have no doubt that they will know exactly where I am.” She said, smiling that came off as more of a grimace. “But I do not care. Enjoy the Seven Hells.”

As she said that she looked behind Margaery before ducking into an alleyway. Margaery turned and saw nothing before turning back and seeing her enemy gone. “What the hell does she mean by…”

Before Margaery could finish her thought there was a large blast of green and then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah two chapters in one day! Crazy I know! The next chapter will either be Battle of the Bastards or a Sansa chapter. Leaning towards BotBs only because I have it started already.


	11. Battle of the Bastards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and the Northern Coalition face off against Ramsay and his forces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me but I enjoyed writing it. Please don't expect chapters to be this long regularly.

Jon couldn’t believe the current turn of events. When the word got out that Eddard Stark’s son was gathering troops to take back Winterfell, to take back the North, numerous houses sent men. At least five other Northern houses sent men beside Houses Reed and Manderly, on top of six different Riverland Houses. The Bolton’s forces still outnumbered them, but the margin was decidedly more thin now.

“The Freefolk and Crannogmen are experts at hidden warfare.” Jon said, leaning over the table with the map on it. Jon couldn’t believe how many people there were in his tent listening to him right now. Alys, Val, Tormund, Sigorn, Wylis Manderly, Howland Reed, The Blackfish, Olyvar Frey, Brynden Blackwood, Big Bucket Wull, Kegan Rivers of House Grell, Lyanna Mormont Sverolf Bearbrawler of the Freefolk, Nicast Ironsmith, Asha Greyjoy, Robett Glover, Justin Massey, Torghen Flint, Dyanne Lightfoot, and Robb’s old captain of guard Hollis Mollen all stood around him listening to what he had to say. This had to be smaller than the council Robb had in the War of the Five Kings or the one Jon’s father was a part of during the Rebellion but still was a bit over whelming. “If we need to fall back, they will be able to cover our retreat.”

“My men will be better used there than on the battlefield.” Howland admitted, “They are not the best of straight fighters.”  
  
“Good enough to defeat Arthur Dayne.” Robett Glover said.

“That was different.” Howland snapped. “And besides It was mostly because Ned saved my life. I wouldn’t have survived otherwise.”

Jon tilted his head at Howland. His father always told it the opposite way. He shook his head, “Val, would you lead the Freefolk portion in staying back?”

Before she could answer (and judging on her looks he did not think he would have liked her answer) the Blackfish cut him off. “No. The Bastard may be stupid, but he’ll realize something is wrong if she is not there.”

“Nice try though.” Asha whispered from beside him.

Jon sighed as he was not trying to get Val outside the line of fire. He did not know when it became dishonorable to guard the rear. Were his troop just supposed to be picked off from behind if they need to retreat?

“Alright, Sverolf would you be willing?” He asked the other Freefolk leader.

“Aye.” She said, looking at her son sitting behind her. “We aren’ lettin anyone passed us.”

“Good.” Jon said, “Ramsay’s men only follow him out of fear. If we do some actual damage, they aren’t going to stay with him very long. Especially if they fear us more than they fear him.”

“Yeah and giants are a good way to get people to shit themselves.” Kegan Rivers said, causing a few people to laugh.

“But those aren’t the Giants that I wish to be here.” Nicast Ironsmith said, and Jon remembered that he was married to an Umber girl.

Jon sighed. The Umbers were some of the Stark’s most loyal bannermen but with the Greatjon held captive they could not depend on them. The Umbers had near twenty-five hundred men so if the Umbers joined with Jon’s Coalition there was a good chance that this battle would not even happen. The Dustin’s, and by extension the Ryswell’s, may have hated his father but they were by no means stupid. An outnumbered army and a House that everyone hated didn’t stay on top for very long.

“Their liege Lord is currently held by the Bolton’s allies the Freys. I do not, _cannot,_ expect that they will join us. They are not fighting for Ramsay Snow so at least there is that.” Jon said, appeasing people vaguely. “Lord Reed, when do the rest of your men get here?”

“In a few hours’ time.” Howland said. “They should be leading any more men making their way up from the Riverlands.”

“Good. Make sure everyone’s men are getting prepared. We shall make our attack in the morn.” Jon said, and most of the Lords took that as a dismissal.

As he sat down and rubbed his hands down his face Val came up behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. “You don’t have to do this you know?” Jon said.

“Do what?” She asked sweetly.

“Act like what you think a southron wife would be doing.” He sighed and she shoved the back of his shoulder.

“Fuck you, Crow!” She snapped, “I am just trying to help. Do you think I _want_ too lie next to some one stiff as a shield?”

“Sorry.” Jon said, “The stress is getting to me. I do not know why _anyone_ is listening to me. I may be Ned Stark’s son, but I am still a bastard.”

“You are a rallying point.” A Voice said, Jon had noticed that Torghen FLint, Brynden Blackwood nor Wylis Manderly had left the tent yet.

“What?” Jon asked, and Wylis explained.

“When my father found out about your brother’s continued existence, he immediately started planning on a way to rescue him.” Wylis said, “A Stark in the North? People would be falling over themselves to fall behind them. We may not have gotten your brother but you… You were raised in Winterfell, Ned Stark raised you.”

“I, and most of the other of your brother’s generals, remember King Robb complaining you were not there.” Brynden Blackwood added.

“Right now, to them, you are the best hope to lead the North.” Wylis finished.

“I was there when the Ned marched South the first time. He would be proud of what you have done.” Torghen said, and Jon gave a half smile.

“Crow!” Kneight screamed running back to the tent. “The Flayers! They are lining up.”

“What?” All the men in the tent said in shock and even Val looked bewildered.

Jon strapped on Longclaw as he stormed out of the tent. Numerous other Lords and ladies walked up. “Snow my scouts are showing that the Bolton’s are lining up!” Sverolf Bearbrawler said, yelling to him.

“I know!” Jon said, going to look for himself.

“What?” Olyvar Frey asked. Jon tried not to glare at his Brother’s former squire, but he couldn’t help himself. It was only the Blackfish telling Jon that Olyvar helped Brynden get away and hide when he escaped Riverrun. “I mean Aenys is cruel but not stupid? Why would they leave a defensive, fortified position?”

“Ramsay is.” Dyanne Lightfood added sharply.

“Oi, everyone mount up!” The Blackfish started screaming.

This was not how the day was supposed to go. Jon should have expected it to be fair. It was pretty stupid in hindsight. Ramsay wasn’t known for his intelligence.

“Ok, they still outnumber us, so we’re going to hit them hard and then retreat back to the woods.” Jon said, directing the Lords in his Army. Ramsay still had the high ground, so a prolonged attack wasn’t wise. “Sverolf’s, Lady Mazin’s, Lord Reed’s, Big Bucket’s and the Norrey’s men will stay behind and guard our retreat.”

“Aye!” The Big Bucket said and turned to start barking orders in what sounded like the old tongue.

“Where’s Wun-Wun?” Jon asked and the giant appeared. Numerous people from south of the wall paled at the giant walking up. Hearing was one thing, seeing was another.

“Are you still willing to do this?” Jon asked and the giant said something in the language that the giants speak. He then ripped a tree from the ground and shucked it as if it were an ear of corn.

“We fight with you, Snow.” Val translated, walking up.

“Good. The Riverlanders have some of the best archers in the Seven Kingdoms, followed by the Freefolk. We are going to need that cover.” Jon said, causing an indignant out cry from the surrounding freefolk which he ignored. “Alys, you, Anguy, Styrmund of the Freefolk and Lord Blackwood are in charge of the Archers. Cover our retreat and then fall back into the woods.”

“Greyjoy, are your men in place?

“They should be.” Asha huffed. “I’ll have their asses otherewise.”

“Good. I will be there with the charge and…” Jon began before being cut off by Brienne of Tarth.

“Lord Snow…” She said staring in horror.

Jon walked over to her to see what she was looking at to see Ramsay leading a small figure by what seemed to be a leash. Jon narrowed his eyes to see who was obviously his brother be led in front of the Bolton forces and the line of flayed men. Jon looked at his bannermen confused, did the Bastard of Bolton plan on threatening his brother to get him to bend the knee? He would do anything for his siblings but surrendering could not be one of them. Ramsay would still kill Rickon, even if the other Lords let him surrender.

Ramsay raised up a knife before bringing it down hard, severing the bonds that held Rickon’s hands together. There seemed to be some sort of disagreement between the two before Rickon started running towards Jon. There was a gasp of shock when Ramsay launched an arrow at Jon’s baby brother. He shot of a second before Jon knew what was truly happening, he snatched a shield from a footman from House Mormont and he took off on his horse.

Ramsay shot another arrow and while grazing Rickon’s calf it did not wound. In the longest twenty-three seconds of Jon’s life another two arrows were fired. Finally, Ramsay fired one last arrow and Jon knew in his heart of hearts that this one would hit its mark. Jon balanced on his horse, cursing that he did not have his aunt’s or sister’s skill with Horses. Right as the arrow was about to hit its mark Jon jumped ,tackling his brother causing a loud crunch noise.

“Rickon! Rickon are you Ok?” he asked as his little brother grabbed his arm in pain.

“I- I am fine Jon… Jon! Your heart!” Rickon exclaimed and Jon looked down to see the arrow had punctured his leathers and went through his chest, and Jon began to feel woozy.

~~~

Barbrey looked as her father stared at the boy who murdered his grandchild in anger. He did not know what Ramsay was thinking and neither did she. This was not pragmatic; it was needlessly stupid and cruel. If she thought what he was doing to the Steward’s daughter was hurting his rule playing these stupidly cruel games was a good way to get no person to trust him in running anything.

Barbrey Dustin felt that she was a reasonable person. Yes, she hated the Starks but who wouldn’t? Brandon promised her his hand and went off to marry the Tully girl. Then his stupid little sister ran off and Brandon got himself killed. In the ridiculous war that followed Ned Stark led her husband to his death and left his body there! That was the final straw in her loyalty to the Starks, but now for added irony she was stuck facing the boy that her husband died in order to save.

Neither the Stark boy nor the Snow boy were moving after he jumped. She let out a sigh. While she hated the Starks, she did not want the children dead. She was a little overjoyed when Ned was killed and when the Tully who stole Brandon was killed, she did not shed any tears (over _her_ anyway) the children had done nothing to provoke her ire. But with the Lannister’s and Frey’s looking from the south, a Stark ruling the North was not good for it. They would be looking to attack the North at the slightest provocation. The North would not be able to stop them.

“Prepare the Cavalry to charge.” The Bastard said.

“What are you doing?” She snapped.

“Preparing to end the rebels M’Lady?” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Their leaders are dead!” She said, ”Just let them bend the knee. Winter is coming.”

“Yes, as we are so often told in the North!” Ramsay said, a devilish grin on his face.

“We will need those men! To protect our home, to till our fields unless you want to starve to death!” Barbrey said and glared at him. Ramsay was the worst type of stupid, the type of stupid that he thought that he was smarter than everyone else.

“We need to send a message. That rebellion will not be tolerated.” Ramsay said, and as much as he wanted to pretend that it was, everyone around knew it was for him to sate his rapid bloodlust. He drew his bow once again. “And their leader doesn’t look to dead to me.”

The man who murdered her nephew let another arrow fly and just as Jon Snow was about to get his brother on his horse, the arrow pierced the skull of his horse. “Ready… Charge!”

~~~

“Rickon.” Jon said, snapping his fingers in front of his little brother’s face. His little brother was a little preoccupied with the arrow sticking out of Jon’s chest. It blackened from the heat before falling back out. “Can you walk?”

Jon saw the arm that he landed on, the bone nearly sticking out of the flesh and Jon tried not to get sick for his brother’s sake. He would be lucky if he ever used that arm again properly. “Rickon!”

“Y-Yes!” Rickon said, almost shouting.

“We need to go!” Jon said, dragging Rickon by his good arm. Both panicked as the horse was hit by an arrow. “I know you may be scared…”

“A man can only be brave when he’s scared.” Rickon replied almost indignantly.

“Aye.” Jon tried not to smile at his little brother quoting their father to mask his fear. “I will protect you, but we must run, alright?”

“OK, Jon.” Rickon said, nodding his head rapidly.

“1… 2… 3...” Jon said, after he gathered his shield from the horse. He and his brother started running but they both knew that they will never outrun the full Cavalry charge.

~~~

Alys liked Jon Snow. Despite everything that had happened between their families during the War of the Five Kings, he protected her without question. He arranged a marriage for her continued protection as well. But most importantly he actually respected her unlike most uppity Lords. She did not see any other Lord willing to put a woman in charge of any military squadron even the archers. It must be all the time he spent with the Freefolk and their spearwives. (Oh, and how he wanted one of those particular wives to spear.)

There was no way she was going to not do anything while the majority of the Bolton Bastard’s men charged at him, intent to run him down like a wild animal.

“Nock!” She screamed at the archers. “Draw!”

“What are you doing?” Anguy asked, “They’re too close to Snow!”

“Fire!” She said, allowing her own arrow to fire. “They’re not too close to Snow! Even if he was, either way he’s dead! This way this just provides a chance for him to survive! Nock!”

“We’re preparing the charge!” The Blackfish yelled. “You’ve only got two more good volleys left!”

“Aye! Draw!” Already her voice was getting hoarse which was a shame. In an hour she didn’t think she’d be able to speak properly. Which was a shame, Sigorn loved her screaming.

~~~

Jon glared as the initial charge that was hit by Aly’s volley. Many of the lead men were taken out either from being hit themselves or their horses were hit, and they were swept out from under them creating a natural barrier for the rest of Ramsay’s troops.

“Come on Rickon!” Jon said as they were given time to continue. “We’ve got to go.”

Eventually the cavalry formed back up and prepared to charge. Looking how close they were, Jon knelt down and drew Rickon into a ball, raising his shield. There was no way to get him to safety and he just hoped that Rickon would be able to survive and get away… he tensed as he felt the hoofs vibrate through the ground and both sides of the Cavalry collided.

“Let’s go Rickon!” Jon said in shock, dragging his brother along.

It was complete chaos. He had fought on the front lines in the Battle of Castle Black, but this was completely different. Between dodging and weaving to avoid sword blows and lance strikes.

“Rickon, duck!” Jon yelled as a sellsword on a horse charged directly at the both of them. He gathered Longclaw in blow hands and swiped the horse’s legs from under him sending the man flying. Jon flinched as he saw the man land on his head and a sickening crunch noise sounded but Jon kept going. “Just keep your head down Rick.”

Running away from the combat seemed to be just as hard as fighting in the combat itself. He was near five years older than Rickon the first time he saw a beheading and already Rickon had probably seen more in the last few minutes than Jon had in over a decade.

“Jon look out!” Rickon yelled as a Frey soldier swung a sword at his head. Jon dropped and then swiped his sword arm off at the elbow.

“Thanks Buddy.” Jon said, as they started running. “Lady Mormont!”

Lyanna looked up after she used her mace to brain a sellsword whose helm was knocked off. “Snow?”

“Get him out of here!” He yelled lifting Rickon to her horse.

“I can fight!” She said, indignantly.

“I don’t care!” Jon yelled. “He’s your liege Lord! It’s your job to protect him. Get him the fuck out of here!”

“Aye.” Lyanna said, turning her horse around.

~~~

Wylis couldn’t believe that Snow fell for the trap. He was furious that the men were forced into a charge way ahead of time. Then he realized that any older sibling would have done the same. He knew that he would have done the same for Wendel.

“Charge!” Wylis shouted as the alliance of Wildlings and Northerners charged at the Bolton-Dustin lines. The Manderly’s had some of the best lancers in the North so even slightly outnumbered he led his men with confidence.

The initial charge went as well as expected with them fighting a literal uphill battle. The Manderly men’s experience made up the difference though. He guessed competing at tourneys actually did pay off unlike what the rest of the North thought.

Their initial charge hit them hard, but they quickly recovered. A man as big as any Wylis had ever seen charged at him, slamming down a Warhammer on Wylis’ mermaid covered shield. Wylis was a veteran of three wars and even still he was having trouble with this man.

“Just die you fat f…” The man said, repeatedly swinging his hammer onto Wylis’ shield trying to become the next Robert Baratheon. Wylis’ eyes widened as an arrow dinged off the man’s helmet. “Who the hell?”

Wylis looked up at the shadows as a wave of arrows rained down on Bolton and Northern Coalition forces simultaneously. Wylis was shocked. The Bastard fired upon his own…

Wylis looked down as an Arrow protruded from his throat. Even the man he was fighting looked shocked and disgusted at Ramsay’s tactics. Wylis gurgled for a moment, before sliding off his horse.

_Oh Leona…_ Was the last thing to pass through his mind as his world went black.

~~~

Dueling three men at the same time in the training yard was always fun for Jon. A way to stay sharp and to impress the other Black Brothers to improve morale. Doing it mid battle was a good way to get himself killed and he was pretty sure that was what exactly what was going to happen.

Dodging and weaving he was getting more and more pissed. These men were his equal together and Jon wasn’t holding his own as well as he normally did. It was only a matter of time before Jon made a mistake. Another man joined in. Why they were so worried about trying to end Jon particularly he did not know. But before he could try to piece together why another man cracked him over his head from behind.

The man from behind raised an axe to bring down upon Jon’s head when a spear struck him in the chest. Olyvar Frey ran up and brought a short sword down on one of the four men Jon was dueling’s head. While still on the ground Jon slashed behind another’s knee and up into the throat of the third man. Tormund was behind the last man and brought down his machete like blade down on his head.

“We need to reorganize!” Jon yelled as the group started fighting together. “Where’s the Blackfish!”

“Getting the rest of our troops together!” Olyvar said raising his shield. “You took off before everyone was ready!”

“Go get to Morghan.” Jon said, grabbing the Frey by the breast plate. “Have him sound the retreat!”

“Get down!” a voice yelled and tackled Jon from behind. Jon heard a distinct repeating thudding noise and looked up to see Beric Dondarrion covering Jon’s body with his own now riddled with arrows.

Jon quickly pushed the dead body off of him. He felt bad but lying on an open battlefield with a body weighting down on him was a good way to get dead again. “Frey?”

“On my way Lord Snow!” Olyvar said throwing his now useless shield to the ground.

“Tormund, I need you…” Jon turned to see Tormund swaying on his feet. Jon walked over to him to turn his friend to be greeted by an arrow sticking out of Tormund’s eye.

~~~

“What the fuck are you doing!” Barbrey screamed.

The Bastard ignored her and nodded to Lord Karstark. While the old codger looked ok with whatever plans they had, not a single Karstark infantryman looked ok with what was about to happen. Barbrey could not blame them.

“March!” Arnolf yelled and the troops reluctantly started to march on the field.

“Nock!” Ramsay yelled and all the Dustin and Ryswell men stared at him. “Did I stutter?”

“Our men are down there you depraved ogre!” Barbrey screamed and Ramsay shrugged.

“And their sacrifice will be dully noted.” Ramsay said, “Once we win. Nock!”

It was then that she knew what she had to do. Pulling out the dagger William once gave her she stormed up to Ramsay and jammed it right into his side.

A look of rage passed over the bastard’s face as he backhanded her, causing spots in her vision and blood to enter her mouth.

“You stupid bitch!” Ramsay screamed spittle going everywhere. He grabbed his sword and was about to bring it down on her. “I’m going to skin you and make you into a pair of boots and make you watch and beg for your life!”

“I think not!” Barbrey’s father said, his own sword blocking Ramsay’s.

“You stupid fuck!” Ramsay said, burying a hatchet in her father’s throat.

“No!” she screamed at the same time Ramsay screamed “Kill them all!”

~~~ 

Asha rode as hard from the North as possible to meet her men there. The original plan was to hit Winterfell from the west as she and her men infiltrated from the east. She hoped that none of them were stupid enough to not realize that a battle was going on or she’d be dealing with a lot of angry Northerners alone.

Riding up she saw that the guards near the Northern walls were distracted before running towards the battlefield. Her men ran up very confused as to how to they had no defense, but Asha was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Let’s go!” She said, as a few men looked at her brother. “How do we get in?”

~~~ 

Lyanna was more than annoyed. She should have been fighting in this battle dammit! The damned Snow kicked her off the field! But he did have a point, getting their Liege was the priority and she took her duty seriously. As an extra precaution she didn’t even take him straight back to the camp but a little north of it.

This seemed to be the right idea as running backwards through a cavalry charge was like swimming against a current only a thousand times worse. Edging out slightly they were separated from the battle, but it was worth it. Just like their oldest siblings, a Mormont was personally guarding a Stark.

“Look out!” Lord Stark yelled, yanking her to the side.

As they landed on the ground in a heap she yelled, “Have you lost your wits!”

“No, look!” He said pointing and she saw her horse with two arrows sticking from its neck. Had Lord Stark not dragged her off her horse she and her liege would more than likely be dead.

“We have got to get you out of here!” She said, pull him up and he started to whimper. She looked at his arm and saw quite how broken it was. She turned a little green and thought to herself that it might need to be amputated.

“Good shooting, Preyton.” A group of seven sellswords ran up. “That fucker will pay good money the Stark Boy. Even the Mormont bitch.”

“A female bear is actually called a ‘Sow’ you stupid fuck!” Rickon yelled and brandished an arrowhead he got from somewhere and Lyanna couldn’t help but smile at his remark.

“The hells with it.” The seeming to be leader spoke. “He’ll pay just as much for them dead.”

The man stepped forward, but an arrow buried into his archer’s throat surprised him to a stop. “I don’t think so.”

Rickon and Lyanna both turned around to see the Blackfish jump down from his horse. A longsword in one hand; a short sword in the other.

“Go boy.” He said. “Take my horse and get out of here.”

“Let’s go!” Lyanna said, leading Rickon to the horse.

“We can’t leave him alone!” Rickon said, showing the Stark honor.

“Don’t worry about me boy.” The Blackfish said, “I’ll be catchin’ up to you in a moment. They’re not getting passed me.”

“Let’s go!” Lyanna said, dragging him and helping him get up.

“What are you waiting for!” The leader said, “It’s just one man!”

“That’s the fuckin’ Blackfish!” Another said, causing Ser Brynden to smile.

“Aye. I’m the Blackfish!” He said, charging the sellswords.

Lyanna turned and kicked the horse into motion to get them the hell off the battlefield as she heard the Blackfish’s last stand.

~~~

Within all the chaos that surrounded him Jon had not noticed that there seemed to be a pile of dead bodies, human and horse, building up to form a sort of wall. Retreat was no longer going to be viable.

While most of Ramsay’s cavalry had fallen or retreated, his heavy infantry now joined the field. With long spears, they were making short work of any of the freefolk or northerners trying to get close. Jon yelled as the group of heavily armed soldier surrounded his men and women and started to march forward in a formation six men deep.

“Snow! What the hell do we do!” Val said, backing into him, her spear bloody.

As the bodies started of his own men started to close in on themselves, his men started to climb the wall of bodies only to see men up there waiting. As men climbed, they were quickly cut down falling on the back of the army left on the field. Jon yelled. “We all have to hit them in one spot at the same time!” Jon yelled it again but could tell only a few people heard him. “Follow my lead!”

Before he could signal to go, Kneight yelled to him. “Snow! Karne just saw a huge group coming from the north! They’re waving flags with men and broken chains!”

“Fuck!” He yelled, the Umbers joining in would seal him and his men’s fate. There was no way that they could win if the Umber’s joined in. They needed to retreat now. “How far?”

“About five leagues!”

“Shit.” Jon yelled and screamed. “Follow me!”

Everyone in his immediate vicinity heard and watched as he used Longclaw to slice through a few spear heads. “Now!” he yelled charging the northern part of the shield wall. Numerous men fell and he was followed by about two dozen of his own men able to break through.

Once they broke through it became obvious that the majority of the enemy soldiers were only carrying their spears, which were useless now that Jon, Val and their men had broken through.

“Cut’em down!” Val yelled as she pulled out a hand axe and started slicing through men. Most of the people with Jon started to do the same and the northern part of the Shield wall started to collapse. It was not enough as the men he had still surrounded were still getting crushed.

And then that’s when the horns started sounding.

~~~ 

“We’ve got to go!” Alys yelled running towards the battlefield.

“Go where?” Anguy asked incredulously.

“To the wall!” Alys said, and the men started to move. “We gotta give those men somewhere to retreat from!”

“They’re too close to our own men!” Anguy yelled, “We might as well be shooting our own men!”

“Aye!” Brynden Blackwood yelled, “That’s why we need to get closer! For accuracy.”

“My men will come with you!” Lady Mazin yelled and numerous armed men started running up.

“Let’s go!” Alys yelled and started running. Alys was by no means an athletic person so most of the other archers quickly made it to the wall before her. “Open fire! Open Fire!” She started to yell and the Riverlanders started firing at the wall.

As the wall cleared, more and more wildlings started charging up over the wall of bodies. The Frey soldiers that were in charge of making retreat impossible were quickly realizing that they were now on the other side of a trap, as Mazin troops and Riverlanders hit them from the west and Northerners and Freefolk hit them from the east.

Alys grinned as they started shitting themselves as Bor-Mir started charging with what seemed to be two fully grown trees to use as clubs.

And then that’s when the horns started sounding.

~~~

Robett wished that it was his brother here. He was the leader; he was the soldier. Robett could not even get Deepwood Motte back. Robett sighed as his shield took another hit of the spear.

Where the hell was that giant? He literally saw it pick up a horse and rider combo and toss it like a child toy. Scanning his environment, he saw that about twenty Karstark soldiers had him circled. They would strike him in the back of his legs and as soon as he turned to confront them, the other side of the circle would do the same. It was quite an ingenious way to get rid of their most powerful weapon.

Robett did not know how so much went wrong so quickly. The bastard was supposed to be stupid! How the hell did he develop a plan so complex? This would be hard even for a seasoned battle strategist. He then remembered Aenys Frey. He was rumored to be the one who planned the Red Wedding, and if he did not then he certainly had a hand in it. Robett would bet his life that it was he who planned this out.

And then that’s when the horns started sounding.

Robett looked south to see a cavalry train charging towards the battlefield. At the head was a boy brandishing a Red and White checkered banner, screaming at the bloody battlefield. At his scream dozens of other men behind him joined in.

Robett gasped as he felt something pierce his chest and looked up to see a spear in his side right above his hip. He fell to his knees as the man who killed him then moved onto another man.

_I’m sorry, Galbert. I failed you._

_~~~_

After the bastard started firing upon his own men the lines turned into complete chaos as the Dustin, Ryswell and Stout soldiers became engaged with the Bolton soldiers. Northerns were literally killing each other for no reason. The gods had cursed the North. That was the only explanation.

Barbrey smiled as the Hornwood men started to get in on killing the Bolton men. It seems that the North truly does remember, especially what the little monster did to their liege Lady.

“We need to get you out of here, Barb!” Roger said, dragging her away from all of the fighting.

“Father…”

“Is gone!” Roger said, “You are not! His ghost will haunt me if I do not get you-”

Her brother was cut short as an arrowhead came through the back of his throat.

“Roger!” Barbrey yelled and saw the Bastard charging towards her. Using the same hatchet that he killed her father with, he brought it down hard. She attempted to dive out of the way, but it hit her in the leg anyway.

“You… you…” She said grabbing her leg, trying to stop the blood flow. This Bastard killed neary every man he ever cared about.

“Me.” He said, smirking. “I’m gonna make this nice… and slow!”

And then that’s when the horns started sounding.

A train of cavalry bearing House Arryn started charging towards his men, and Ramsay smiled. “I did not know that the crown was sending the Vale to aid me! They must hate the Stark’s even more than we do!”

Barbrey started crawling away, trying to be sick at the fact that the little ogre was trying to find similarities between them.

“What do you know.” HE said, shrugging. “I guess good things do happen to good people.”

Barbrey’s mouth dropped at the bastard’s break with reality. These last few weeks she has started to learn when the little shit was lying and when he was being truthful. The delusional little monster truly believed that!

“Oh really!” Barbrey said, “It doesn’t look like they are here for you!”

Ramsay stiffened and looked at the battlefield to see the Vale forces crush the Southern flank of his shield wall. As soon as a dozen men fell from the Vale reinforcements, every soldier that worked for Ramsay threw down their arms.

“No!” He howled before turning tail and running.

~~~

Jon heard cheering and yelling as all the enemies around him started throwing down their weapons and raising their hands in surrender. _What_ _in_ _the seven hells?_ Jon thought to himself.

Looking up he saw the Knights of the Vale had crushed the Southern portion of the shield wall causing it to completely collapse. The Karstark and Bolton men surrendered almost immediately. He smiled as yet another group of people, the ones he was raised with, remembered his father and sought to honor him and fight for their cause.

Even better Ramsay’s entire army surrendered. Not a single man raised arms once they realized that the fight might as well be over. No one wanted to work for Ramsay Bolton if they did not need to and now outnumbered and out classed in skill alone, they surrendered without hesitation.

He looked up the hill for the man who stole his home, used an imposter for his sister, the one who nearly killed his brother only to see him running away with a few other knights.

“He’s getting away!” Jon yelled mostly to himself.

“You Snow?” The man, well boy really as he was around the same age as Jon, who lead the charge against Ramsay’s forces.

“Aye, who’s asking?” Val said, eyeing the boy with suspicion.

“Ser Harrold Hardyng of the Vale.” He said, holding out a hand. “It seems your traitor is getting away.”

“Aye.” He said, and the knight pulled him up and behind him. “Let’s go lads!”

A group of about twenty Knights followed Ser Harrold and Jon in a charge to catch up with the Bastard of Bolton. The coward was riding as fast as he could away from the fight now. Jon’s eyes widened as he remembered what Kneight told him during the battle.

“We need to get to him now!” Jon yelled, “He has reinforcements that way!”

“Shit!” The knight cursed and they all sped up their horse as Ramsay got farther away. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The Umber lines were now visible as they passed the crest of the hill. There was no way that the group of knights were going to make it to him before Ramsay got to the Umber lines. Just as he was about to call for them to stop and retreat, numerous arrows shot out and took out many of Ramsay’s men and horses; before they were surrounded by Umber soldiers.

Jon’s jaw dropped as they rode up to the Umber soldiers who quickly detained both Ramsay Bolton and Aenys Frey among a few others.

“Who are you!” A voice squeaked and a little boy surrounded by much, _much_ larger men stepped forward.

“That’s the Snow boy, Ned.” The man Jon recognized as Mors Umber said.

“Oh!” The Boy said, Jon realized that this must’ve been the Greatjon’s grandson Ned Umber. “Well met Lord Snow.”

“I am not a Lord, My Lord but it is nice to meet you as well.” Jon said, as they tied up Ramsay.

“I am guessing that the fighting is near done?” Mors asked, and Jon nodded his head. Then in a semi-joking tone he said, “Damn! We could have done with the invite!”

“I am sorry, My Lord.” Jon said, “They had your nephew, I did not want to put you in a difficult situation.”

“Ah fuck that!” Mors said, waving Jon off much to the boy Ned’s embarrassment. “Jon will be pissed that we didn’t do any of the fighting.”

“Come, My Lords.” Jon said, “Winterfell and my brother is waiting.”

“Brother!”

~~~ 

With most battle commanders out, it was up to Torghen to take charge of the remaining soldiers on the field.

“To Winterfell!” He yelled and numerous men cheered with him. As they ran towards the Heart of the North, more and more men joined with them. Torghen looked up as the ground shook signifying that the giants had joined.

{Can you break down the wall?} Torghen asked the much taller giant in the old tongue.

{Yes!} He said, as both giants brandished their clubs. The smaller one started slamming on the door with his, as the bigger one dropped the tree and just started pounding on it with his fists. It was a matter of moments before the door was knocked off its hinges. Numerous northern clansmen and wildlings stormed in only to see the Ironborn there ready to open the gates for them.

“You could not have waited another minute?” Asha Greyjoy asked as the smaller giant pulled the door off a dazed Ironborn soldier.

“You know how it is.” Torghen said, shrugging. “They were excited.”

~~~

_“Home was home”_ Jon thought to himself as he walked into the courtyard of where he grew up. It seemed to be a burnt-out shell of what he remembered it as, but it was still home. It wasn’t truly good to be in the home he had missed for years until he had family in it.

“Where’s my brother?” Jon asked as he led the Vale Knights and Umber Lords into Winterfell.

“We have men searching for him now.” Hollis Mollen said, as the courtyard seemed in disarray.

“Last I saw he was with the Blackfish and Lady Mormont.” Torghen Flint said walking with Jon.

As soon as everyone realized that he entered the chatter and movement stopped as they looked to him. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Jon whispered to Torghen and Hollis.

“Nothing happened.” Torghen said, suppressing a smirk. “I think they’re just awaiting your orders.”

“ _My_ orders?”

“Aye.” Mors said, “Seems like it.”

As Lord Commander he was used to men following his orders and looking to him to give them, but this was a queer feeling. The Battle was over; they no longer had reason to follow him. Winterfell was back in Rickon’s hands. Right now, no one seemed to be doing anything that needed to be done so he started directing people.

“I want as many healers out on the battlefield as possible; both sides to be treated equally. Anyone with Maesters that they are able to call for would be appreciated. Bring the dead bodies to the South of Winterfell. We will figure out a way to deal with them later.” He yelled, “Anyone who bent the knee willingly does not need to be thrown into cells unless they’re a damned Frey. Throw all of them into a cell. Olyvar stay by my side.”

Numerous cheers went up at his last words and everyone started buzzing around doing it. “Jon!” a voice cried out and Rickon ran across the field to him. Jon was stunned at his looks now that Jon was able to get a look at him. Honestly, he expected" Rick to look like a miniature of Robb, but truthfully as much as Arya looked like Jon, Rickon was identical to _Sansa._

“The- The Blackfish is dead!” He cried, in anguish using one arm to hug Jon’s legs. “I shouldn’t have left him behind!”

“It’s alright. It is not your fault.” He said, patting his head. His little started letting out little sighs into Jon’s stomach before calming down eventually. Jon turned to Ser Harrold.

“I want to thank you, Ser.” Jon said, sticking out his hand. “A lot more people would have died had you and your men not arrived when they did. A lot more of my men would be dead.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. Thank…”

“Jon!” A female voice rang out and Jon’s heart stopped for a moment as Lady Catelyn came charging at him. It took him a moment before realizing that it was not in fact his stepmother, but sister Sansa!

She ran toward him and jumped up wrapping her arms around him.

“S-Sansa?” Jon asked, as he nearly did not recognize her. Her hair was cropped up to her just below her shoulders and she was wearing trousers and armor. His little sister, a Lady at three wearing armor. Granted it was smaller armor probably designed for ceremonies as it was mostly a thin chest plate and there was a skirt to it, but it was still jarring to see. She was here and leading soldiers?

“You took back Winterfell!” She said, excitedly grinning at him.

“It looks like _we_ took back Winterfell.” Jon said, sweeping her into a hug. “How did you convince the Vale to help?”

“Why are you wearing armor?” Rickon asked, and Sansa narrowed her eyes at the dirty little boy asking her personal questions. Before she could Jon spoke,

“Now _Rickon_ that’s no way to greet Sansa.” Jon said, and their sister’s eyes went wide as saucers. She mouthed “ _Rickon?”_ and Jon nodded.

“Hi Sansa. I missed you!” Rickon said, before switching his hug over to Sansa. “Why are you in armor? I thought it would be Arya to be the one in Armor.”

“Arya!” Sansa said, her head shooting up. “Where is she? We were told she was married into the Bolton’s!”

Jon smiled sadly. The only time that he remembered Sansa _not_ putting up a Lady like façade was when she was dealing with Arya. The fact she was clearly deathly worried about her warmed Jon’s already flaming heart. “It was some other poor girl.”

“Oh.” She said, looking down and Rickon huffed loudly. Sansa smiled at his impatience and said, “Lord Royce would only let me come with this party if I was wearing it. He did not want me coming at all, but he agreed that a Stark should be there for the retaking of Winterfell.

We did not hear about you until a day ago Jon, I am sorry. The Crannogmen told us that you started an army. We would have been here too help much earlier otherwise. We heard the fighting from a few miles out and got here as fast as we could.”

“And you’re sure we can trust them?” Jon whispered so that only Sansa, not even Rickon, could hear.

“Absolutely. Lord Royce saved my life. He helped me rally the Knights of the Vale.” Sansa said.

“Well…” The Lord in question said walking up. “It was mostly your sister than did the convincing. It was her who got justice for our Lord Jon Arryn. sharp as a whip this one is. Doubt we would have gotten passed Moat Cailin in time without her!”

“How _did_ you all get passed Moat Cailin?” Jon asked.

“Cersei told the Lord Protector of the Vale to aid the Bolton’s in putting down Stannis’ rebellion.” Sansa shrugged. “So that’s what we told the garrison. They just let us through.”

“Just like that?” Jon asked incredulously at the very simple solution.

“I mean it technically wasn’t a lie. Sometimes a letter can be just as dangerous as a sword.” Sansa shrugged again and Bronze Yohn’s face darkened for a fraction of a second.

“She truly is brill…”

“Lord Snow?” A man from House Umber interupted, walking up with Ramsay in chains. “What do you want to do with this one?”

“Oh yes _Lord Snow”_ Ramsay said, sarcastically “What to do with the man that ruined your life! I took your home; I took your little sister for my own! Over and over! We…”

“Just put him in the dungeons. I’ll deal with him later.” Jon said, rolling his eyes at the man’s attempt to rile him up.

“That’s it?” Ramsay spat and Jon knew that it was killing him that Jon did not hate him more. That he did not consider Ramsay to be his archrival. The Daemon to Jon’s Daeron. That Ramsay was not the Rhaegar to Jon’s Robert.

“Yes.” Jon said, and to dig the knife in worse he said, “It may surprise you, but I have much more important things to worry about than you right now.”

Ramsay started to scream obscenities at Jon, but he laughed it off and turned back toward his siblings. “You stupid… I am a trueborn son of House Bolton!”

“A bastard legitimized by a Bastard!” Sansa snapped back at him.

“A trueborn son!” Ramsay reiterated. “All you will ever be is a bastard, you son of a whore!”

Jon looked back at his sibling who were glaring at Ramsay in Jon’s defense to the numerous Northern Lords and soldiers still left in the courtyard. He put a fake smile on his face and said, “Yes. I guess I will be.”

This lack of reaction infuriated Ramsay more. There was plenty more that Jon could have said, but he remembered something Lord Commander Mormont once said to him.

_“Tell me Snow. Who is truly the stupid man? The Lackwit, or the man who argues with the lackwit and expects any results?”_

Jon smiled as he turned back to his siblings. He wanted to just hold them close and relax for the rest of the day but too many things needed to be done. He could not just leave his men to do all the work without him there to aid th-

“No, fuck this!” Ramsay said. “I am a trueborn son! You were the one who suggested one on one combat! I want it! I want it now! I demand my right to trial by battle!”

Numerous Lords looked on in disbelief at the man’s audacity and looked to Jon to tell him to go to hell. But something curled in Jon’s belly. Since he had been sleeping with Val the Wolf had calmed down considerably it was still there at moments, but Jon was able to temper it for the most part; specifically, during the battle.

Now however… Now it wanted to play.

“He’s right!” Jon said and everyone in the courtyard looked at him in shock. “He does have that right. I am guessing that you are choosing yourself for champion?” He asked rhetorically.

“Of course!” He said, seemingly smug that he tricked Jon into doing this. Everyone around looked either confused or angry that Jon was allowing this. The Umber soldier looked to Jon who nodded, and Ramsay’s bonds were cut. “Now who has a sword that I can borrow?”

Jon looked to Torghen. The older man gave him a questioning look and Jon nodded assuredly. Torghen took an axe off of one of his men and thrust it into Ramsay’s chest. The bastard gave the older man a dirty look, intent on making him pay for that “slight” at a later moment.

“Are you ready bastard?” Ramsay asked, lip curling up in an ugly grin.

“Oh, I am not fighting you!” Jon said, before giving a feral smile. “The champion for House Stark is the Direwolf.”

“What?” Ramsay asked, confused before a look of pants shitting terror passed over his face as he heard a growl from behind him. The monstrous bastard turned to see both Shaggydog and Ghost slowly approaching him with their hackles raised, Shaggy’s growling able to make a grown man shit themselves. “Wait just a minute, Bastar-”

“Begin!” Jon said, cutting him off. Ramsay was not even able to get a word off before both Direwolves were upon the last living scion of House Bolton, ripping into him.

Jon relished the feeling for a moment: of the warm blood squirting into his mouth, the bones crunching under his teeth. He then looked at himself in horror. What did he just do? What would his father have said about that? None of the Northerners nor Freefolk looked very upset about it but it still surprised them. And he enjoyed it!

As the screams died down Sansa uncovered Rickon’s eyes and turned to Jon. “I- I brought this.” She said, shocked at her brother’s brutality but shrugging it off and compartmentalizing it. “I feel like the honor should go to you though.”

Jon looked down and smiled at what Sansa embroidered. He kissed both of his younger siblings on the forehead before, walking up the steps to the wall. Everyone in the courtyard seemed to know what he was doing, so they stopped what they were doing to watch.

Jon drew Longclaw as he walked to the Bolton Banner hanging over the main gate to his ancestral home. With one quick chop it went fluttering down into the mud. With a quick knot, Jon threw the Stark banner over the ledge and every man, woman, and child started cheering.

_The Direwolf banner flew over the keep. Winterfell was the Stark’s once again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the writing in this chapter definitely got away with me. They was merely catharsis to sooth my soul after the real battle and all the leaps in logic. Like why wasn't Wun-Wun armed? Why did Jon fight an Up hill battle outnumbered? Why did Sansa not say anything about the Vale? Why did nobody care that Ramsay was firing on his own troops? Hopefully this fixed a few of those things but I don't know much about battle strategy so let me know what you think! I promise that we will see what happened with Sansa/Littlefinger, but she'll be telling the story because I like it better that way so that will be in a future chapter.


	12. Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon both attempt to help the North's Recovery in their own ways. An old friend returns and a new member is added to the Pack

Not for the first time in her short life did Sansa curse Cersei Lannister. Also, not for the first time did she curse Petyr Baelish as well. Cersei was supposed to teach her how to run a household and if the queen were too stupid to do so (which she was) she was to have someone else do it for her. And Petyr… he taught her much of political and military maneuvers, but the basics must have been too much for her to learn she guessed.

Ever since the Battle of the Bastards (By the Seven were people unoriginal with names) it had fallen to Sansa to do the logistics for Winterfell. Jon attempted to help as much as he could when he could he was split between helping her, spending his time stuck wrangling the other Lords, Clan leaders and Wildlings or developing a military plan to take back Moat Cailin for real with only Alys Karstark for company and aid.

She wondered about the relationship between the Northern Girl and her brother. She did not think Jon would dishonor her, but she thought the same for Robb. Maybe he did not care about siring a bastard. Her father raised him making it clear that his bastard was just as important as his trueborns. She put that thought away as it was none of her business (even if she would love to have a baby around to play with).

Either way Sansa was left to be the one to try and decipher the non-sense that Ramsay Snow tried to put into these books. He was trying to cook the books on something that only he had access to…. Sansa tried to let that sink in. She groaned into her hands; she was already pretty bad at maths as it was.

Wynafred Manderly and Randa were an answer from the gods when it came to what she and Jon were doing. Both had proper training when it came to this so while they were waiting for everyone to show up for the Great Council Jon had called, they were both more than willing to help out. It certainly distracted Wynafred from her father’s death. But with their help Winterfell was currently running parchment thin on the distribution on supplies but they were staying afloat. But even with their help it was not enough.

There were plenty of nights where she just ended up falling asleep in her father’s solar and Jon was stuck carrying her to bed. Most nights since they had been reunited both she and Rickon found themselves ending up sleeping in the same bed as their older brother. Yes it made her feel a little like a child, but no she did not care. She had spent much too long trying to get back to her family and she was not going to squander it once she had it.

She could not believe how much Jon had changed in the last few years. She remembered him as a tinier brooding version of father. Now he was tall and put on much muscle. Made his way up all the way to Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch; first man to kill a Wight. Apparently, he was a devil with a sword, as everyone around him looked at him in awe after the battle. Doesn’t matter if they were Riverlanders, Knights of the Vale or Northerners they all respected the hell out of him after what he showed in battle; none more so than the Wildlings.

She did not know _how_ he managed to get the loyalty of the thousands of wildlings who were now south of the Wall but the way they looked at her brother was something else. She remembered her father saying once that the Wildling’s could never pose a true threat because they would never be able to be brought together as a unit, but somehow her brother did so. Not only did they come together, they were together and fighting as an army because of Jon.

Although, Sansa did not think that they liked how much time he spent with Sansa, at least if how much the Blonde with the pretty eyes was glaring at her was anything to go by. Unless she… “ _No don’t go there, Sansa.”_

She knew that she should be more worried about what her brother did to Ramsay. The joy on his face as the wolves were crunching his bones reminded her far too much of Joffrey. But in a weird way, she understood. This man killed his friends, she later found out he almost killed Rickon. The wolves biting into him… she really couldn’t find issue with it. Especially how guilty her brother later looked because of it.

Another interesting development was **_Rickon was alive_** _!_ She almost dismissed the dirty mangy boy as another wildling her brother befriended at first before Jon explained exactly who it was. Joffrey spent many hours mocking the deaths of both Bran and Rickon so she was overjoyed that the Bastard king was wrong. She couldn’t believe how much he has grown. The last time she saw him she could balance him on her hip, now he came up to her chest!

If she thought, _she_ was clingy to Jon she had nothing on Rickon. He followed their older brother everywhere or demanded to be carried. The Wildling woman he was with rolled her eyes enough but seemed to be ok with the fact that it placated him. Now only if he would allow them to give him a haircut.

“Rickon Stark!” Jon snapped, “You had better not be fiddling with that sling again!”

“It’s uncomfortable!” He whined, and she guessed that he was probably exaggerating but did not feel sympathy. “Mother wouldn’t yell at me for this…”

“You’re right.” Sansa said, grinning at Jon. Their little brother did not remember much, but he remembered to play Jon against their mother and Sansa wasn’t about to let him be a little shit. “She’d have had you over her knee by now!”

Rickon grumbled as plan did not work and he walked away with his wildling Woman who was grinning at the siblings. Her little brother’s spirits were raised once he saw Bethany Blackwood, practically the only other person close to his age and willing to play around at the moment.

“M’Lord, M’Lady." Hollis Mollen said, coming up to them, causing Jon to automatically say, “Not a Lord.”

“Lady Poole has arrived with a group of Wild… Free Folk.” He started. Jon had been adamant about not calling them Wildl…

“Did you say Lady _Poole?”_ Sansa said, her voice cracking.

“Your friend Jeyne.” Jon said, stating the obvious. “They had her as the one posing as Arya.”

Sansa picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to the court yard. Numerous members of the wildlings who just arrived stared at her in bewilderment as she frantically looked across the group. She visibly deflated as she saw that her friend was not a part of the group…

“Sansa!” She heard before nearly being tackled by a girl she did not recognize.

“Jeyne?” She asked incredulously. Her friend had changed much. Forgoing the fact that she never thought she’d ever see the younger girl in trousers; the pretty girl’s dark hair laid limp and she was missing part of her nose. When she smiled looking at Sansa, she saw that she had a broken tooth.

Jeyne looked disappointed at Sansa’s reaction and before her friend could get upset Sansa began, “I thought you to be dead.” She said, through tears.

“I survived.” Jeyne said, pulling her back into a hug. “I survived…”

“I tossed him off the highest tower of the Gates of the Moon.” Sansa assured her. “Littlefinger. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

“Good.” Jeyne spat, “better than he deserved! What did you do to your hair!”

“Jeyne,” Jon said, walking up. Jeyne shot over to Jon and gave him a huge hug as well; which was weird. She does not think that Jeyne and Jon exchanged even a few words growing up. “If you would move to the Great Hall, you were the last group we were expecting.”

“Right away, My Lord.” Jeyne said, curtsying and going off with the group of Wildlings including the one who looked old enough to be Jeyne’s mother and was quite too familiar with her friend for Sansa’s liking.

“Kneight!” Jon called to his _female_ squire. The wildlings had just as many female warriors among them as male and Sansa thought that her sister would be right at home with them. Brienne certainly seemed to be. The wildling squire ran up and Jon said, “Let all the Lords and Ladies know that there will be a meeting in the Great Hall in three quarters of an hour.”

“You got it, Snow!” She said before taking off to alert everyone.

As she left Jon looked to Sansa. He looked at her numerous times trying to figure at what he wanted to say before Sansa channeled her inner Olenna Tyrell. “Just say what you’re going to say!” She snapped.

“Before we begin this, the other Lords might have questions. So, before we are bombarded with them… do… do you know what happened to Arya?” Jon asked and Sansa knew she shouldn’t be shocked. Despite the blatant try to not make it sound as if _he_ were not the one worried, Sansa knew those two were so close you’d have thought they were twins if not for the age difference.

“They… the Lannisters never had her.” Sansa admitted. “She had a dancing master. She would have been with him when Cersei did what she did, but she wasn’t.”

“Did she escape with him?” Jon asked, and Sansa shook her head.

“He was one of the many Heads that Joffrey made me look at.” She said, bitterly.

“Everyone was killed?” Jon asked.

“Everyone except me and Jeyne.” She said sadly. “And those who joined the Brotherhood without Banners”

She tried to stop herself, but tears started running down her face, “Oh Jon!” She said, throwing her arms around her older brother. She did not know if it was nostalgia of being home, or that fact that her big brother was around but the last couple of days she let the emotional walls she had built up fall. “I was such a brat in King’s Landing! I was so horrible to her!”

Jon looked awkward as he petted the back of her head. They had a similar incident happen a few days ago when she apologized for how she treated him to his bewilderment as he had no idea what she was talking about.

“Th- the last thing I said to her is that she should have died instead of Lady!” She wailed. “Who says that top their sister?

“Lady died?” Jon said and Sansa looked at him through narrow tear-filled eyes.

“That’s what you took from that!” Sansa snapped.

“You said that you were a brat in King’s Landing. Did it start right after Lady?” Jon asked sympathetically.

“Ye- Yeah.”

Jon sighed, “Sansa, we are all Wargs. Lady was your partner and you were connected to her.”

“Jon, I thought we were having a moment!” Sansa snapped at her brother making fun of her. “That’s a silly Northern Legend!”

Once upon a time she may have been more willing to believe in such but the last few years have taught her that Life is not a fairy tale. Then again Daenerys Targaryen has Dragons and Jon knows a couple different giants. Maybe fairy tales and real life were more similar than she thought.

“You never had the Wolf Dreams?” Jon asked. “Where you would see from Lady’s perspective.”

When Sansa looked at him and the blood drained from her face he continued. “I was able to sense it on you since we’ve reunited. You and Rickon are Wargs just like me. Your souls are… were literally connected. When she died… I can’t even imagine. Actually, I can. As someone who died I am honestly surprised you weren’t worse.”

“You really did die!” Sansa exclaimed, “It’s not something you told people to justify coming south?”

“I’d have thought you’d think better of me than that.” Jon grumbled.

“Oh, please don’t take that the wrong way!” She said, holding his arm just in case he wanted to storm away. “Back in before King’s Landing, I was so obsessed with stories that I was not able to tell one from real life. It took me a long time to learn to separate them. Now I am learning that all those stories are true? It is taking a lot for me to process.”

Jon grinned and kissed her forehead. “I didn’t know about Lady, “He started “But now this makes much more sense.”

He grabbed her by the hands and led her to the kennels. When they got there her heart started beating so fast one might have thought it stopped. “Jon!” She squealed in delight.

“Shaggy and Ghost brought her back last night.” Jon said, as she fell to her knees and let the so dark brown that it was almost black direwolf pup crawl into her laugh. “I knew there would be a reason so I did not want to turn her away, not that I would have. I was going to start trying to bond with her myself to gain a second companion, but I cannot think of anyone else she should go to.”

“I love her already!” Sansa squealed once again as she tugged the pup into her chest, she did her best not to hurt her. She couldn’t help but giggle at the puppy licking at her face.

“She’ll need a name as soon as possible.” Jon said, “You know how fast they age.”

“I have the perfect name for her.” Sansa said, confidently. Long ago she would have named the Pup something she used to think was romantic like Daeryssa or Jonquil. But now after everything she had experienced it just did not feel right. However, there was another person, a person who was once a member of her own family no less, that felt worthy enough a name. A woman who brought peace to a civil war-torn land not by conquering like Arya’s heroes but by staying true to her Lady like duties. She grinned up at her brother and asked, “How does Black Aly sound?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the next three chapters written out so they will be out soon.


	13. Margaery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Alla escape King's Landing after the Green Trial.

“Margaery, I am hungry.” Alla said again, and Margaery tried not to grit her teeth at her cousin’s whining. While Alla may be smarter than most people would think, she was still an eleven-year-old girl. She reminded herself that after the blast she did save Margaery; even if she could not save half of Margaery’s hair that the blast caught to flames; Margaery was lucky she saved what she did. So she needed to be more patient with her cousin. “I have two silvers left. Why don’t we…”

“Cersei is bound to know that I survived her ridiculous attack.” Margaery said, not understanding what Cersei thought she was gaining from doing such a thing. Did she not learn her lesson from Maegor the Cruel? Joffrey certainly made sure to learn as many lessons from him as he could. He certainly told her enough times. The faith will _never_ leave alone for as long as she lives. “There certainly will be people looking me and maybe you as well. Going Northern instead of to our southern allies might throw her off for now.”

“What southern allies…” Alla said, sarcastically. “Oh and thanks by the way.”

“Do you _want_ to have that Mad woman after you specifically as well?” Margaery hissed and her cousin who muttered under her breath.

Margaery and Alla had been headed north for days now. Right after Cersei had done what she did at the Arena, the Tyrell Household and a good chunk of the garrison that were in King’s Landing were subjected to exactly what the Stark Household had happened to them before the War of the Five Kings. Numerous men and women that Margaery had grown up with murdered and heads put on pikes. Her own wetnurse was a victim! Margaery had to hold back a shutter and a sob for her cousin’s sake. Loyalty when deep with the servants of Highgarden. The Tyrells were once servants themselves and would not forget what happened to the people loyal to them.

Alla had looked at her as if she were as mad as Cersei when she suggested going to the Vale; traveling as Alerie and Ellya Flowers. More so after she explained her reasoning. Sansa was there and while she might be justifiably mad at the entire House of Tyrell, Margaery doubted Sansa would hurt them… Hurt Alla. She was to kindhearted a person to truly hurt Alla for something she did not do. At this point, after all the horrible things that happened to get Margaery on the throne the least, she could do was get Alla to safety. She would accept anything that Sansa would want to do to her.

“I’d deserve it.” Margaery said. “I got her hopes up and then I dropped her as if she had the plague once she was no longer useful!”

“You did that for her own good!” Alla reminded her, “It was either that or pretend like she was bothering you to Joffrey! What do you think Joffrey would have done if he thought she was bothering you?”

Margaery sighed as she knew she was right. But then looked guilty.

“What?” Alla said, able to sniff out whenever Margaery wasn’t being truthful better than anyone other than Willas… Oh Willas…

“Garlan and I may have had a plan to get her out of King’s Landing…” Margaery said, scratching he now much shorter hair. “Littlefinger just beat us to the punch.”

“Are you serious!” You could have… Marg…” Alla whispered, after seeing movement. “There is someone in that clearing over there! They’re alone!”

“Shhh.”

“Maybe they have food!”

“Alla you are the smartest of my cousins. Do not make me change my opinion!” she said, and her cousin looked down. Margaery sighed, “I will go ask to see if they have food.”

“What if they want…” Alla said, leaving the rest up to interpretation.

“Well being a maiden without having a Maidenhead didn’t help me in the first time I might as well take advantage of it!” Margaery said much more cynically than before Cersei’s trial.

“Don’t say that!” Alla said, indignant on her cousin’s behalf.

“Wait here and if something goes wrong, run!” Margaery said as she snuck into the clearing that the man was waiting. After a minute of building herself up; finally she pushed herself into the clearing.

“Excuse… me…” She started only to run into a dead end. While the fire was still roaring the man was nowhere to be found. “What in the…”

Margaery yelped as Alla was tossed into the clearing. After checking that her cousin seemed mostly alright; she looked behind her as the man stepped into the clearing. Alla was visibly scared of the huge man as Margaery looked up and nearly shit herself. Apparently, she paled to the point Alla would later tell her she thought she died standing up.

“What do you want?” Renly asked, holding a warhammer slightly over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super proud of this chapter but It sets up future plot points. Hoped you enjoyed it.


	14. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon calls his Great Council and the Lords of the North, Riverlands, Vale, Iron Islands and Stormlands learn about the true enemy facing Westeros

“You cannot expect the Knights of the Vale to side with Wildling Invaders!” Horton Redfort yelled across the room, with numerous people grumbling in either agreement or discontent. The Riverlanders, Stormlanders and Northerners who fought in the battle seemed to be much more accepting of the people from north of the wall. However, as the days grew more numerous, more people who did not fight in the battle arrived. Those who fought with the Wildlings quickly fell into the minority.

“We didn’t invade!” The blonde wildling who had been consistently glaring at Sansa yelled behind her without even looking at Lord Redfort. “We were _invited!_ ”

“Well not by me!” Redfort said, but quickly sat back down once Sansa glared at him. She already did not like the man after how he treated Mya and Mychel and their romance. This was not helping his cause.

“My Lords!” Jon bellowed in his commanding voice and if Sansa did not know better, she would have thought she was sitting next to her father. “No one group won this battle. The Knights of the Vale, the Riverlanders, the Ironborn, the Wildings, the Stormlanders andthe Northerners won this battle _together!_ My father always said that no one knows their true friends until they find them on the battlefield.”

“Why are we even here?” Marc Woolfield said standing up. “The Boltons are defeated, the North is ours! But winter will be here any day now. The Maesters say it will be the coldest in a thousand years. We should go back to our keeps and ride out the Storm.”

“My Lord!” A man wearing the sigil of House Smallwood of the Riverlands said urgently and somewhat panicked, “The Riverlands are still under Lannister and Frey occupation! Not to mention the reign of Terror from the Bloody Mummers.”

“The Riverlanders came to us when we needed it most. The North will not forget, and we will aid you.” Jon said, and if anyone was still looking down on Jon for his bastardry, they were quickly changing their minds at this reassurance. “But even after we do so, our War is not over. The _true_ enemy comes soon, and no enemy will keep them out.”

Jon exchanged a look with his wildling squire and the girl opened the side door to allow a wildling, a man wearing Massey colors and a mountain clansman from House Liddle to drag in a man attached to three separate chains and a hood over his head. Sansa looked at Jon and he put a hand on hers as a reassurance.

“My Lords, this is our true enemy.” Jon said, ripping the hood off to numerous screams of surprise. Whatever that was, it was not human. At least not anymore. It looked like a man, but the flesh was rotting off his face and his eyes were a startling blue. Shaggydog and Ghost both had their hackles raised as Black Aly started yipping from Sansa’s lap.

“They don’t sleep. They don’t eat. They shrug off wounds as easy as you would a mosquito bite.” Jon said, punctuating his point by slicing the thing clear in half, causing another uproar in surprise when the being that was cut in half still attempted to get at Jon.

Kneight handed Jon a torch, he pushed the flame into the creature, and it was reduced to dust in seconds. “The only thing that can stop them is fire, valyrian steel and dragonglass. Their leaders aren’t even affected by fire. And before we know it, over a hundred thousand of them will be marching for the wall led by the Night King. I have seen them; I have fought them and only survived through luck. No Wildling clan, no single house, no kingdom alone can stop them. We need to stand together, or we will die alone.”

At this revelation a sort of panic started to break out. Northmen and Wildlings, Riverland Lords and Iron born raiders actually in agreement for once. Sansa recognized this panic; this is exactly what it felt like right before the bread riots. Sansa herself only was able to stop herself from panicking by using her numerous years of etiquette training. Right before the bubble could pop Alys Karstark stood up.

“My Lords! My Ladies!” She yelled gathering attention. “I do not have much experience fighting the White Walkers and their army of the dead. Or even fighting in general! I am not going to pretend to. But Jon Snow does; when it comes to this threat, we need someone with as much experience as possible. He is the one who we should listen to when it comes to this threat!”

Many houses were still unconvinced; even the Northern Houses to Sansa’s dismay. Right now they needed to be as united as possible. Between the Dragon Queen to the East, Mad Queen Cersei to the South, and the White Walkers to the North, allies were a strong commodity to have. Just when Sansa thought that Jon was losing them a voice sounded out above everyone else’s.

“House Mormont swore an oath. Thousands of years ago we vowed to follow no man except the man whose name is Stark.” Lyanna Mormont’s voice sounded out.

“He’s a _bastard_.” Lady Dustin said, with disgust in her voice. She grabbed Jon’s hand then. After her time in the Eyrie she knew what it was like to be on the other side of those glares and people looking down on you passed their nose.

“Ned Stark’s blood flows through his veins!” Lyanna exclaimed more forcefully. “I don’t care that he is a bastard. When Lady Karstark fled, she did not go to the Bolton’s she went to Jon Snow for protection. I know there were a few other Lords and Ladies who wanted to or attempted to do the same! He is the one carrying Ned Stark’s legacy. House Mormont will follow him. This day, until his last day!”

“Aye.” A voice rang out and the Greatjon stood, with help from a few of his men. Jon and Sansa had found him stuck in a makeshift cell as a hostage after they took back Winterfell and it did not look like he had been fed in days. “The wildlings have been acting strange even before the War. I do not see any member of the Night’s Watch let alone the Lord Commander allowing them through the wall unless it was serious.”

The Greatjon turned to Jon directly, “Because of me, you were not able to turn to my house for help when you needed it most. For that I am sorry and I beg forgiveness. I will regret that until my dying day.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, My Lord.” Jon said, confused and Sansa wondered how he could be _elected_ Lord Commander when he was this awkward around people.”

“There are still battles to come.” The Greatjon said, directing his words to the rest of the room. He drew his sword and raised it with a shaky hand. “And for them House Umber will stand beside House Stark as it has, for thousands of years!”

The Greatjon looked around as numerous other houses cried in the affirmative and once they started to quiet down, he added. “And _I_ will stand beside Jon Snow, THE KING IN THE NORTH!”

Her brother froze as if a bucket of ice water was spilt over his head. She always understood why her mother had problems with Jon and she and Jon had never truly been close, but really it was ridiculous that he would ever willingly usurp any of her siblings. Especially now that his entire body was excluding fear. She had only been with Black Aly for an hour but she seemed to already have bonded with her and could start to sense others emotions. Jon was just projecting pure fear.

There were whispers about Jon being a bastard and whether to follow him when Wynafred Manderly stepped up. “My Lords! My Ladies!” She said, and everyone looked to the new Liege Lady to White Harbor. “My grandfather always used to tell me that the North was the most united of the Seven Kingdoms. The most connected; the most bonded. The Red Wedding was probably the most heinous crime in our lifetime. It broke that trust; it broke our bond.”

Once Wynafred realized that she had the attention of the room she pointed at the high table, “JON SNOW AVENGED THE RED WEDDING! At our darkest hour, it was Jon Snow that we turned to. It was he who brought the North back together once again and the North Remembers! We can all stand around here debating on who to follow but it seems to me that we’ve already chosen. There’s no one else better to lead us than Jon Snow. KING OF THE NORTH!”

As she spoke other Northern Lord all started nodding and agreeing and the idea of Jon leading them started to gain traction. There was a lite cheering in the room as more and more came to agreement. Jon looked at her in a mix of panic and guilt until she smiled at him. His eyes widened as Tytos Blackwood stepped up.

“Fuck that!” He yelled, and Sansa was frankly surprised at his lack of decorum. And his rudeness.

“He was good enough to send your son to fight alongside but not to be king of another Kingdom?” Bathally Mazin snapped at him and he held up his hands in a sign of peace.

“You misunderstand me, My Lady.” Tytos said. “All these men and women claiming themselves to be the rightful King, yet only one man is truly trying to do their job and act as the Protector of the Realm.”

He kicked the ashes of the Wight from earlier and said, “I say fuck King in the North! We have five kingdoms here. I say a more just name for him would be King of the Seven Kingdoms!”

Numerous Storm and River Lords started cheering at that before Davos Seaworth stood up. “My Lords! Not many of you know me. I have only been a knight for a recent amount of time. But when I went to the Wall with Stannis Baratheon, I met Jon Snow for the first time. Stannis offered to legitimize him and make him Lord of Winterfell, the two things he admitted he wanted most in the world. He declined anyway because of his siblings’ rights and because he knew his duty to the Night’s Watch. Jon Snow lives and breathes his duty and I would be proud to call him King!”

Sansa smiled as the crowd seemed to be in agreement, even the Wildlings and Iron Born seemed to accept them naming Jon as their leader and King. Of course, he had to go and muck it up.

“KING! KING! KING!”

“My Lords! My Ladies!” Jon said, and everyone looked at him. “I am honored by your decision, but I hold no claim over the North and I hold no claim over the Iron Throne. You should pick my siblings; I am not a Stark…”

“The fuck you aren’t!” A voice said, bursting into the room.

“Mother!” Lady Lyanna exclaimed as the short stout woman walked in followed by Galbert Glover. The two had been missing since the Red Wedding and had apparently been traveling to the Wall.

“Ned raised you and went out of his way to do so.” Maege Mormont said, “And if that doesn’t make you one maybe this Will, will.”

Maege lifted a scroll above her head before she brought it down and unsealed it.

“ _I, Robb Stark first of his name, hereby legitimize my natural brother Jon Snow naming him Jon Stark._

_I have no sons and my siblings Princess Arya, Prince Bran and Prince Rickon are missing or dead. My last remaining trueborn sibling, Princess Sansa is now a prisoner, so with a heavy heart I hereby disown her from my line of succession until if and when an annulment is obtained for her marriage to Tyrion Lannister of Casterly Rock._

_Until a son is born of me, I hereby name my Brother Jon Stark as my heir and if I do die with a child born to me, I name him regent of the North until my child comes of age. I now release him from his Night’s Watch vows. There is no man I trust more to lead the North more in my absence than he **.** ” _Maege said, finishing the letter.

Everyone looked around awkwardly as the situation was very uncomfortable. A trueborn sibling passed over for a bastard, and that is not even getting into the fact that Rickon _was_ alive, unlike what the letter said. Maege handed Jon the letter and she saw that it was signed by a number of Robb’s Bannermen including the Greatjon and her Uncle Edmure.

She could not even be angry with her older brother. Had she been in Robb’s position with what she knows now she would have made the exact same decision. Tyrion may have been the best of the Lannisters, but he was still a Lannister and as monstrous as the rest of them. He acted appalled at the Red Wedding but Petyr told her about the plan to attack Robb’s camp under the guise of negotiations. Littlefinger may have embellished or left out parts of the Story but he never straight out lied to her. Being Queen of the North was not worth being married to him. At this Sansa started to ponder to herself.

Did she really want to be queen? A few years ago, her answer would have been yes without question. But now… She saw how power corrupted and could she resist that? Could Rickon? He was just a little boy! He deserved at least a little bit of his childhood that he had left. Would all these Lords and ladies want to follow someone so young? Someone who the Maester said would probably never be able to carry a sword in his life? Her mind was made up.

“KING FROM THE NORTH!” She yelled and a silence sounded across the hall.

“Aye.” Harry said, smiling at her. The marriage between them might not being going through anymore but they had developed an easy understanding. “King from the North!”

“KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH!” was all that could be heard across the hall as everyone there stood up with swords in their hands. “KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH! KING FROM THE NORTH!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Like the Battle of the Bastards I wanted to fix Jon's moment of Crowning. Because really why did they name him King? Sansa, who we are repeatedly told is key to the North-Riverland-Vale alliance, was sitting right next to him, is the actual heir to the North and the Knights of the Vale won the battle fighting for her. Honestly Jon was just named King since he's the protagonist so I hoped to change that. Here they have actual reasons for following him and the man who declared him King, The Greatjon, actually knows that Robb legitimized him/made him his heir. Hopefully you enjoyed!


	15. Arianne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arianne, Elia Sand and Quentyn return to their home. They need to make plans in the new political landscape of Westeros.

For the first time since before the War of the Five Kings Arianne did see her middle brother again. She knew he wanted her to be angry, feel _furious_ but somehow, she just felt… empty. Her father and she did not have the best relationship and before her leaving but they were growing closer. Now they would never have that chance because of people she trusted.

“Cousin…” Elia said, her eyes downcast.

“We do not blame you, Elia.” Arianne said, to the girl she saw as a little sibling. She had little siblings of her own but was so bitter about her arguments with her father that she had deliberately chosen not to grow close to her actual younger siblings. She now would never have that chance with Trystane. “I blame those who did the deed.”

“Where are the rest of your sisters?” Quentyn asked, he was to have treated with the Dragon queen and arrived hours after Arianne did herself.

“She has been gone a long-time brother.” Arianne said, to ease his temper. “We both have.”

“I do not blame her.” He said, “However I would like to see those who did and their whore of a leader punished.”

Arianne shot her brother a dirty look when Elia flinched. Despite everything Elliara was still her mother. Quentyn did not looked even a little repentant over causing their younger cousin grief.

“They did what you could not, Cousin.” Both looked up to see Sarella Sand walk up to them in Maester garb. “They will probably arrive in Dragonstone any day now.”

“She has already taken Dragonstone!” Arianne asked incredulously. She had no desire to follow her father’s plans and ally with the Targaryen’s.

“No,” Sarella shook her head. “Loras Tyrell _gave_ it to her. A friend of mine from Oldtown is from House Tarly. He said that they allied with them after the Green Trial.”

Arianne sighed. She had grown much since her arguments with her father. The Dornish were her people and she had no desire to drag them into a silly war. But now she had no choice.

“Who did they bring with them?” Arianne said, “Ned said that houses joined with the traitors.”

“Houses Wyl and Yronwood.” Sarella said, looking down. “Cletus Yronwood married Obara for her claim.”

“No!” Quentyn said, sadly. Arianne knew that from their time fostering together Quentyn and Cletus grew as close as Ashara and their Aunt Elia. His betrayal was… She could not imagine. “Cletus would never…”

“He did!” Elia snapped, with tears in her eyes. “He betrayed you! The Yronwood’s and Wyl’s betrayed House Martell! My mother betrayed _everything_ my father stood for! It happened! We need to move on!”

“And how exactly are we to do that?” Quentyn asked angrily.

“We are stuck going to war. Either we support the mad Queen blowing up her own subjects. The woman who stepped over our aunt’s body to get her queenship…” Arianne began “Or the Dragon Queen that nearly destroyed Slaver’s Bay in her attempt to save it and would more than likely do the same to Westeros. Not to mention she is aiding people that will most likely see us dead as soon as look at us.”

“You do not wish to fight for independence Cousin?” Elia asked.

“I do not wish to get my people pulled into a war.” Arianne clarified. “But it seems as if we have much of a choice. And one choice is worse than the next. I have no desire to side with a Lannister or a Targaryen, but without two of our most powerful vassals fighting for independence will not be a realistic possibility.”

“Not necessarily.” Ashara said, making the group jump. She had gotten far too good at sneaking up on people and enjoyed it far too much. “There is a third option.”

“And who is that?” Quentyn asked, as they made their way into Sunspear’s complex.

“The King from the North.” Sarella said, and the siblings stopped. “Jon Snow marched from Castle Black with an Army of Wildlings. He united them with the Northmen, the men from the Riverlands, the Knights of the Vale, even the damned Iron Born! They declared him their new King.”

“I must be mistaken.” Arianne snapped. Arianne was furious. “Because I swear I just heard you suggest that we side with that whore’s son! I have no desire to side with a Targaryen!”

“I told you…” Ashara sighed. “Your Aunt knew about Rhaegar and Lyanna. She believed in the same damned prophecy. Rhaegar was looking at Cersei Lannister until Elia stepped in.”

“That still does not excuse…” Arianne began before she was cut off.

“He does not know that he is anything but a bastard.” Sarella said.

“Oh I am sure.” Arianne said rolling her eyes. “I am sure that is why multiple kingdoms decided…”

“Multiple kingdoms decided to support him because of their loyalty to Ned Stark.” Ashara said, “If you think that the Dornish are fiercely loyal to the Martell’s… the only other place in the seven kingdoms that is just as loyal is the North. They love the Starks. He died years ago yeah they still love Ned Stark…”

“As you still do!” Arianne snapped, knowing that it was a low blow.

“Yes.” Ashara said through gritted teeth. “They would not choose him to be their King if he was not every inch Ned Stark’s son.”

“That Tarly boy I told you about?” Sarella said, “He was on the wall with Jon Snow. He truly does not believe that he is anything but Ned Stark’s Bastard.”

“Quentyn…” Ashara said, as they made it to her father’s… what used to be her father’s solar. “You have been awfully quiet.”

“When Aunt Elia and our cousins were murdered…” Quentyn began. “Ned Stark was the only person who spoke to their defense.”

“You think that we should side with the Starks?” Arianne asked incredulously.

“I think we need allies that we can trust.” Quentyn said, “Especially since they will need us just as much as we need them.”

“How so?” Elia asked.

“Sarella said numerous lords from the Stormlands have declared for Jon Snow.” Quentyn said, “While the North, Vale and Riverlands share a boarder, the Stormlands are isolated. Dorne could be in a position to help them.”

“And what would we get out of it?” Arianne said.

“Allies.” Ashara said. “The North Remembers. It’s not just a warning to their enemies; it’s a reminder to their allies as well. Right now, the Dragon Queen is allied with people who want you both dead.”  
  


“We cannot beat them by ourselves. Neither of the Queens.” Quentyn said, and Arianne flinched. “He is unmarried no? Perhaps he may need a queen?”

“No!” Arianne near shouted. Her father’s ambitions to get her on that damned throne played no small part in his death. She did not want to be anywhere near that damned death trap. “My place is Dorne as it always has been.”

“Mayhaps Elia then?” Sarella said.

“What?” The youngest of the group said. “Why not you?”

“Because I swore Maester vows!” Sarella said, “I am going to be the Maester for Sunspear.”

“He was a man of the watch!” Elia said, and she had a point. But Arianne did not have time to argue the point. “Vows obviously do not hold the same meanings these days.”

“Enough. Elia you are of age with him and he was raised as a bastard. This may be a good idea.” Arianne said. Her cousin looked betrayed but before she could say anything Arianne held her hand up to speak. “But I will not force you to marry anyone you do not want to.”

“Thank you.” Elia said, more meekly than Arianne thought a Sand Snake ever would.

“You will however be coming with me to Winterfell. I want a ship prepared to travel by the Morning.” Arianne said, feeling like a true leader for once in her life.

“Morning? Arianne we just got back.” Elia said.

“We did.” Arianne confirmed. “But we do not have time to dawdle. Ashara, you, Elia and I will be going to Winterfell.”

“That may not be a good idea.” Ashara said, “If he does believe he is a bastard there is a good chance that he believes that I…”

“Understood.” Arianne said, “However we may be able to use that to our advantage.”

Ashara did not look pleased at what Arianne said but nodded her head.

“Quentyn, you and Sarella will be gathering the loyal Dornish forces.” Arianne said, “I do not want our people to fight but if it is necessary, we will be prepared.”

“House Dayne stands with you.” Ashara assured her. “As it has and always will.”

“Aye.” Arianne said, “Now where are these guards that allowed my family to be murdered.”

“Subdued and buried.” Sarella said, and Arianne was surprised.

“Even Areo?” She asked.

“Areo is dead.” Sarella said, “T’was Tyene who did the deed.”

Quentyn and Elia started nodding their heads in understanding. Tyene took her father’s skills with poisons. She did not think that the big man who protected her father would be taken down any other way.

_“Oh Tyene.”_ She thought to herself. Of everything that happened her cousins’s betrayal hurt the worst. They were closer than sisters. They did everything growing up together. They lost their maidenheads together. Yet…

“Prepare the scorpions.” Arianne said, snapping out of her melancholy “We shall get our justice afterwards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What does everyone thing about Jon/Elia S? Jon/Val is not going away but I am just curious to see what the consensus is.
> 
> Arianne-24  
> Quentyn-20  
> Sarella- 22  
> Elia- 17  
> Ashara- 36


	16. Catelyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catelyn and Arya regroup after escaping the Twins and run into an old friend at the Crossroads in

It had been near two weeks since her daughter rescued her and the other Riverland hostages from the Twins. Yet her daughter barely spoke to her only to give directions or ask how much food she would like. It was eerie how silent she was; how guarded she was. Ned used to call her his “little ball of energy” but now…

“Hmm.” She said, from behind her daughter on the horse. Arya turned and looked pained.

“Mother, I don’t understand what you are trying to say!” She said, in anguish. Her daughter looked like she was about to cry.

When Black Walder slit her throat at the twins it was truly a miracle that she survived. Not all of her children were dead, and despite her despair at Robb’s death she wasn’t about to give up! She was going to get back to them! She was able to stop the bleeding and she guessed that the old lecher saw more value in having her as a hostage. He used his own maester to save her, but the blade damaged her vocal cords far too much. She was never going to speak aloud again in her life.

Her daughter had been trying hard to be patient, but trying to take the lead was slowly graining on the teen. Arya… she did not know what had happened to her in these last few years but Catelyn worried that she herself might be the damn that breaks her daughter down. No matter what she had gone through she was still a ten-year-old girl… or was she eleven? The time in the cell near drove her mad with only a reunion with her daughters to keep her sane. She did not know whether days or years had passed at times; only that her little girl was now near a woman grown starting to finally gain a woman’s shape

At night she knew Arya wasn’t getting any sleep. She wasn’t either. Most night’s when her youngest daughter thought she was asleep; she’d come over to where Catelyn was and curl into her side. She’d be up before Catelyn “awoke” but she still did it. She was being deliberately distant, and Catelyn had enough. Arya may have been on her own for a long time, but she was still her mother and she _was_ going to speak to her.

“Hmm!” She sounded and Arya turned in the saddle. She raised a single eyebrow the same way that Catelyn used to do her children on a regular basis. _Cheeky_ _little…_ Before she could get off track, she pointed to the road sign they were coming up on.

“Oh! We are going to the Vale.” He daughter said, not answering the question Catelyn was trying to ask. But still It helped her. Lysa was in the Vale, she may not have come to their Father’s funeral, but she’d never turn them away. “I don’t trust Littlefinger, but he still cares for you.”

Littlefinger? Why would they be going to the Fingers? Lysa was at the Eyrie. The most impregnable castle in Westeros. Why wouldn’t they go there? Catelyn tilted her head and Arya stiffened, “They… They didn’t tell you?” Arya said, and in a voice full of sorrow she said, “Your sister killed herself. Lord Baelish is now the Lord Protector of the Eyrie until our cousin comes of age.”

Catelyn felt tears trailing down her face. Yet another family member lost in such a short amount of time. _Ned, Bran, Rickon, Father, Robb, Talisa, Baby Eddy…_ Damn every single last Lannister! And damn the Frey’s too! She could mourn later; her daughter was in a sharing mood.

She took a deep breath and pointed at the sign age. Her daughter huffed- she did it enough growing up that she could hear it a full league away- and was about to say something nasty before seeing what Catelyn was asking. She read the sign and asked for clarification. “You wish to know how I escaped King’s Landing?”

Catelyn nodded her head and could feel the discomfort radiating from the girl.

“It’s a long story…” She said, and before Catelyn could respond she added, “We are almost at the Inn. I will explain more in detail there.”

The tone that Arya used was the same tone she used arguing with Edmure back at the Twins. Just like her brother Arya decided to take back the Riverlands. Once they separated from the other hostages, Arya brought Catelyn with her but not before rubbing mud in her hair before slicing in so that it was a similar length to Arya’s instead of nearly to her arse. Ned loved her hair…

A few hours later -she really needed to teach her daughter the meaning of _close_ \- Catelyn despaired to see the place where the War of the Five Kings started. Where she kidnapped the Imp. Although looking back she wished she just slit his throat for what he did to her Sansa.

“We’ll stop here for the Night.” Arya said, as they walked in. “I still have some of the old man’s gold. We should be good for the night as long as we aren’t recogn…”

“Arry!” Arya stiffened as a rotund boy looked overjoyed to see her daughter.

“’Ello Hot-Pie.” She said, looking truly happy for the first time since they were reunited.

“What are you doing here! I thought that you were a goner for sure when the burnt fella took you!”

Catelyn looked at her daughter for clarification to which she let out an uncharacteristically meek, “No. Sandor looked out for me nice and fine.”

_Sandor! Sandor Clegane!_ The Mad dog of the Saltpans is what they called him at the Twins, and he had her daughter?

“He didn’t do what they’re saying he did.” Arya continued, “He died long before then.”

“Oh.” The boy said, “Well do you want a table? Jeyne is almost done with the stew!”

“Yes, a table would be ni… what is it. Why are you giving me that look?” Arya asked flatly. Catelyn was surprised. She didn’t see him give a look.

“What look?” _Oh, that look!_ Catelyn thought to herself.

“ _Hot-Pie.._.” Arya warned, and he sighed.

“Gendry’s here.” He said, and her daughter stiffened and was that… blushing? Was her little girl blushing at the thought of a boy? “With his wife.”

“HIS WHAT!” Arya yelled furiously.

“I… uh… Do… um… Do you want me to bring you to him?” Hot-Pie asked, and Arya stuck her nose up.

“No!” She said, indignantly. “He’s with his _real family.”_

C’mon Arry!” Hot-Pie said, and surprisingly for the first time in this conversation Catelyn wondered what the relationship between the two were. “You were gone for over a year! We looked for you!”

“Hmph!” She said, “Just get us a T-”

A voice sounded for across the Inn “Hot-Pie are you… Arya?” Catelyn looked up and her eyes went as wide as saucers. Renly Baratheon walked up to them in a state of shock. “Is that you?”

“Go away traitor!” Her daughter said, betrayal evident in her voice.

“Arya!” He said, this time running over and scooping her up in a big hug. Catelyn noted that despite her anger, Arya allowed him to pick her up and spin her around.

As the youth put her down, she realized that he definitely was not Renly. He was much, much to young.

“Are you sure your _wife_ will be ok with you being seen…”

“ _My_ wife?” He asked confused. “No, it’s my _uncle’s_ wife M… Alerie.”

“Oh!” Arya said, and Catelyn realized what must’ve happened. She reacted very much the same way when she first heard about Brandon’s… hobbies. She willed herself not to smile at the thought that as much as she detested ladylike activities, she acted just like any other maiden with her first crush.

“What happened to you Arya?” Gendry asked, in a much more tender voice.

“How ‘bout I tell you if you buy me a cup of wine.” Arya said, grinning. Catelyn huffed and lightly smacked her daughter’s shoulder. “Or not…”

“Oh who is this?” Hot-Pie asked.

“Yes, who is this Arry?” Gendry asked, “Very rude not to introduce us. Very unladylike…”

“Well why don’t you go get fuuuu…” Arya said, before eyeing Catelyn. “This is Gendry and Hot-Pie. We traveled together. Boys… this is my mother.”

Both boys stiffened and if Catelyn was unsure if they knew her daughter’s true identity before, it was a definite now.

“W… We heard…” Hot-Pie said, eyes wided.

“So did I.” Arya deadpanned.

“Let’s sit.” Gendry said, wrapping an arm around Arya’s shoulder before shooting Catelyn a panicked look. He moved his arm as if Arya was scolding.

_That’s right… do_ not _touch my little girl!_ Catelyn’s glare seemed to convey to him.

Catelyn’s first thought when they got to the table was that his Uncle’s wife was far to young to be married. Then she saw the girl next to her, who was more likely to be the wife. She was about the same age as Robb… or the same age Robb would be. It took a moment before Catelyn realized that _she recognized her_! And it seemed to be mutual as the woman shot up from her chair.

“Sansa!” The girl asked, as if she saw a ghost. It took her a few seconds, but she asked in the same incredulous voice, “ _Lady Catelyn?”_

Catelyn nodded her head at Margaery Tyrell impressed that the girl could recognize her near two years after they had met and after everything that Catelyn had been through.

“I heard you were dead! How did you survive?” The Once Queen asked.

“She can no longer speak.” Arya supplied when she did not answer.

“Why don’t we all sit down.” Gendry said, pulling out chairs for Arya and Catelyn.

“How do you know my mother?” Arya asked, and Margaery took a swig of her ale mumbling something about ghosts.

Catelyn’s eyes widened. Margaery was married to Renly, and if he were this youth’s uncle that meant that he would be Robert’s bastard! Of all the odds in all Seven hell, the spitting image of Lyanna and Robert just happened to be traveling the world at the same time…

“She was sent to negotiate with my husband during the War.” Margaery said, and Catelyn saw the mill turning in her daughter’s head.

“Wait… If my mother was negotiating with your husba… YOU’RE HIGHBORN!” Arya whisper hissed.

“High born _bastard_.” Gendry stressed. “Although the difference doesn’t seem to matter much anymore anyway.”

“I’ll say.” Arya said, glaring at Margaery or gave a confused look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The girl closer to Arya’s age asked.

“That she married Joffrey even knowing that he was a bastard!” Arya said, and the other four youths looked very confused.

“Where are you going?” Margaery asked, randomly.

“None of your…” Arya began before Gendry gave her a look. Her daughter sighed and said, “The Vale. Petyr Baelish is an old friend of my mother’s.”

“Petyr Baelish is dead.” Margaery said, at the same time Gendry said, “Not the North?”

“Why would we go North?” Arya asked, “It’s under Bolton occupation.”

Four sets of jaws dropped, and Arya and Catelyn exchanged looks. “The Bolton’s are dead.” Hot-Pie said, and Catelyn’s heart skipped at the thought of the man who murdered her child being dead. She smiled until the next child opened their mouth.

“Jon Snow marched down from Castle Black with an army of Wildlings.” Margaery said, “He united the North, Riverlands, Stormlands, Vale and Iron Islands. They killed the Boltons and took back Winterfell. They named him King _from_ the North.”

It was Catelyn’s turn for her jaw to drop. The… The Bastard was named King! She knew Robb named him his heir but that was before they knew where Arya was! Arya was here and she was fine, and _she_ should be Queen of the North not that boy!

Petyr! She wasn’t sure she could trust him, but he’d help her put a stop to this! He was the Lord Protector of the Vale! He would have enough political power to help her get her daughter in her rightful role! Catelyn dipped her finger in some ale and traced a “P” onto the table.

“P?” Arya said, “Petyr?”

Arya nodded her head and looked to the group.

“Littlefinger is dead. He was executed...” Margaery repeated. “By Sansa Stark.”

“WHAT!” Arya shouted as Catelyn’s eyes widened.

Sansa killed Petyr?

Sansa _killed_ Petyr?

_Her Sansa_ killed Petyr?

“BLOODY MUMMERS!” a voice screamed braking Catelyn from her thoughts and everyone in the Inn started panicking.

“Mummers?” Arya asked, and Gendry and Hot-Pie’s faces darkened.

“The Brave Companions.” Gendry said, and a look of fear passed through Arya’s face. She ran to the window and opened the shutters slightly. “The Lannister’s won’t deal with them and the Frey’s aren’t competent enough to deal with them. There’s a rumor that your brother is bringing a contingent down to deal with them.”

“First time in its history, the Riverlands would be happy for an occupying army to enter it.” Hot-Pie joked as Arya turned around.

“You any good with that hammer?” She asked, and Gendry looked surprised.

“Yes.” He said, pulling a massive hammer from under the table that Catelyn did not notice.

“That’s Rorge.” Arya said, and Gendry and Hot-Pie’s eyes widened. “There’s only seven of them. We can take them.”

“Only seven?” Margaery said, sarcastically.

“Yeah, only seven.” Arya said moving her jacket slightly. A very small sword (that she had been trying to unsuccessfully hide from Catelyn) was strapped to her waist.

“You got it back!” Gendry said, evidently happy for her daughter.

“Yeah I…” The door to the Inn was kicked open as a man without a nose walked in. He was holding the Dog shaped helm of Sandor Clegane under his arm.

“Please…” A young girl came over begging, but he simply pushed her out of his way. Another member of his party grabbed her and dragged the struggling girl into his lap.

“Where I gotta go to get a cup o’ ale ‘round here?” He called loudly.

“Leave.” Arya said, loudly. Gendry came up behind her and flipped his hammer up from the floor into both arms. Everyone in the Tavern looked terrified for the two.

Catelyn panicked. What was she doing! They had just reunited and already they were…

“Oh ho ho!” The leader yelled, “Look at ‘is boys! the boy thinks ‘e’s the next Robert ‘aratheon!”

As the group started laughing her daughter continued. “I saved you from the fire Rorge.” Arya shouted and the group froze. “You owe me your life. Leave now.”

The man squinted at Arya “Oh! The boy is actually a pretty girl!” He said, before narrowing his eyes. He started to draw his sword and said, “I ‘ink I’ll carry out my promise. Imma fuck you bloody with a goddamn stick!”

Catelyn was about to shield her daughter from these savages but before she could three things happened almost at the same time.

First, knives appeared in the throats of the two closest men to Rorge. Second, Gendry brought the hammer down on Rorge’s sword hand causing a huge **_crack¸_** before whipping the blade of the hammer up into another man’s face, probably killing him instantly. Third, her daughter took the skinniest sword that Catelyn had ever seen and jammed it into another man’s gut.

Catelyn pushed Margaery and her friend back as the entire tavern seemed to hug the wall to get out of the way. Within seconds Gendry and Arya had taken out five of the seven from effectively fighting. The one with the girl in his lap threw her aside and raised a sword, but Gendry brought his hammer up under his chin turning his head into mush before he could do anything. The last one ran away as Arya walked over to Rorge slowly.

“I know what you did to Yoren.” Arya said, to him. Catelyn’s heart nearly stopped at how close to the mad rapist she was. Looking at the arm that looked as if it were hanging on by a thread, she felt a little better but not much.

“Who the fuck is Yoren!” He hissed and Catelyn vaguely remembered a Wondering Crow named Yoren who occasionally came to Winterfell. Actually, the last time she saw him was in this very establishment.

“The Night’s Watch Brother. The one you murdered.” Arya said, and Catelyn flashed back to the time she asked Ned about Ashara Dayne. The face her daughter was giving was near identical.

“You ‘ave to be more specific! There’s a lot of people ‘oo match that…” Rorge began before laughing. “Oh yeah. I ‘member him. Squealer 'e was! He deserved it that right quick!”

“And so do you.” Arya said, and Catelyn was horrified as she watched her little girl _slowly_ push her blade through the man’s throat.

As the man slowly choked to death on his own blood, Arya walked over to some of the bodies. She pulled the knives from the dead men’s throat, wiping the blood off on their clothes. “We have to go.” Arya said “That last one will tell the rest what happened here. I don’t know about you, but I do not want to be here when they come back.”

As they ran outside, the other children jumped on random horses. “Are you stealing their horses?” Arya asked wryly.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve done.” Gendry said, shrugging causing Arya to laugh.

But Catelyn just starred at her daughter in horror. She killed those men so… uncaringly. It did not seem to affect her in the slightest. What the hell happened to her little girl?


	17. Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets some weird dreams and hosts his first Great Council

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Elia is not happening in this story. Although I will be doing another story with them. Look for the first chapter later today.

Jon was overjoyed that he finally got his siblings to start sleeping in their own bedrooms again. He truly did love his siblings and at one point or another all four of the younger ones had snuck into his room at night while he was growing up, but he was thankful that he did not need to share anymore. Rickon’s caretaker Osha moved into his room with him and he did not trail off anymore. Sansa, now a princess, had Wylla Manderly, Myranda Royce and Jeyne Poole all acting as Ladies-in-Waiting to take some of the load off; so, she was no longer falling asleep in inappropriate places and did not need to be carried to bed.

Most importantly though was now that his siblings weren’t sleeping in his bed, Val was. Val could tell that Jon hadn’t been truly been getting sleep but he was grateful that she did not say anything. Ever since the lords put a damned crown on his head, his dreams were so vivid and intense that he was putting off sleep far too much. It helped him avoid them for a while, but he supposed that just putting sleep off would not help because he would never be able to forgo it entirely.

This night he dreamt of a fat man; a bald man. He ran through various hallways wearing colorful cloaks and robes. He quickly hurried across the hallway and nearly ran into a pig like man with an insect on his chest.

“Ser Amory…” The colorful fat man said with an unusually high voice for a man.

“The Spider.” Amory said, pulling out a sword. “Ol’ Tywin’ll pay good gold for yer powdered head.”

“Oh, I am sure he would.” The Spider said, rolling his eyes. “However, I believe that he would be more worried with the Princess.”

This seemed to stop Amory and sensing weakness the Spider continued, “And of course I would not know that she was hiding under her father’s bed six doors down behind you…” The Spider sighed.

Amory took the bait and his head snapped backwards to see where the Spider was speaking of. By the time the glorified sellsword turned around the Spider was gone. Jon looked on in horror as the man stalked to the room, eventually pulling the crying little girl from under the bed.

“Brother!” She screamed as the man thrust the blade into her stomach. “Help me brother, please!”

Jon knew what this was; this was the slaughter of the Martell-Targaryen family. This was Princess Rhaenys’ death at Tywin Lannister’s pet rat.

“Please help!” She screamed, as she kicked at the man. This infuriated him and he lost control as he continuously stabbed her. “Please Snow! Brother! Snow!”

Jon’s eyes shot open as Val finally decided to slap him out of his nightmare. “Snow, what the hell?”

“I think…” Jon said, “I think I may have been greendreaming.”

“Oh…” Val said. The Freefolk were very wary of greenseers. “Of what.”

“Tonight?” Jon asked, and he saw that she was not happy that this was not the first dream but the first she was hearing of it. “The princess of the seven kingdoms. She was murdered before I was born, or right around it. Little girl of maybe four, stabbed a few _dozen_ times and I had to watch.”

“What else?” She asked, seemingly truly interested in his plight.

“Horrible things.” Jon said. He watched a man’s head be crushed. A man be shot to death as he held his dying son. He watched his father lose his head. He watched Robb die. His uncle die. His grandfather die. He explained all of this to Val but was unable to keep himself from rambling.

“Shush.” She said, grasping his hand finally. “It does you no good to continuously go over it.”

“It’s burned on the inside of my eyelids.” Jon said, pushing on his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Then you need a distraction.” She said, pulling on his hand, guiding it up her tunic.

“I can’t… I have training.” Jon said, reluctantly as he started getting hard as he felt her nipple pebble under his palm.

“Well…” She said, before biting the inside of his neck. “We will just have to make up for the exercise, I guess. You can assure your kneeler lords that you got your daily dose.”

“You keep saying negative things about kneeling.” Jon said, flipping them back onto the bed, “Are you sure that you don’t want to do any kneeling to me?”

“Not on your life Stark.” She said, laughing at his inuendo and Jon grinned. It was the first time someone truly called him Stark. (And if she received an extra orgasm out of it, then so be it)

~~~

“Olyvar was a good choice to become Master-at-Arms.” Jon said, as Sansa walked up to him. Sansa rolled her eyes at the argument. He knows she did not want _any_ Frey’s at Winterfell, but Jon was able to convince her to make an exception for Olyvar.

“For now.” Sansa said, as she looked down at Val teaching the females around Winterfell how to fight. His sister was right when she said that a female instructor would go better to teach a female fighter.

Jon wanted to introduce his… his Val to Sansa and Rickon but was truly afraid of how they would react. It wasn’t appropriate how he and Val were carrying on. He did not know how his siblings would react. He and Sansa were once close until she learnt what it meant to have a bastard brother. Yes, she learned herself what it was like from her time posing as a bastard at the Vale, but would she be able to accept him subjecting another child to that fate?

“For now?” Jon asked.

“You have been making plans to march an army into the Riverlands, no?” Sansa asked, rhetorically. “You will need someone we can trust to take the Lordship of the Twins.”

“I never… You are right.” Jon said. He never wanted kingship. He was not trained for this. It should have been Robb.

“We can discuss this more in the Great Hall.” Sansa said, “You should go get ready. You are a King now. It will do no good to arrive all sweaty and gross looking like you just arrived from training.” She said, punctuating her point by crunching up her nose for dramatic effect.

“Alright! Alright!” Jon said, holding up his hands in mock defeat while trying not to laugh at how wrong his sister was.

~~~ 

An hour later Jon stood outside of the Great Hall chambers with Sansa and Alys. Alys had been acting as his temporary Hand ever since he was crowned, and Jon had not felt the need to officially take up a Hand yet. Rickon was deemed too young to join councils at the moment so he was left in the care of his Wildling caretaker. Finishing out the group was Brienne of Tarth who had been acting as Sansa’s sworn shield and her squire, Podrick Payne.

Sansa did not care to have a sworn shield, and after her experiences in King’s Landing Jon did not blame her. But it made Jon feel better for his sister to have protection surrounding her. With him now King, his sister could not directly contradict him when he gave his leave when Brienne asked for his permission to be her sworn shield.

Unfortunately, it took nearly a week after his crowning to get her to actually voice opinions about his decisions. Whether from courtesy or from fear from her time with Joffrey whenever she voiced an opinion, she would not say anything. Finally, he had to get ridiculous.

_“Alys!” He shouted, two days passed._

_“Yes, Your Grace.” She answered and was doing a heroic job in stopping herself from laughing at what he was about to do._

_“Let it be known I want every copy of Florian and Jonquil to be burned in the North. I hate that story; I don’t want it read near me.” He said, not looking up from the letter he was sending to a Riverlands lord._

_Sansa’s jaw dropped in disbelief at the act of his pettiness. Alys nodded and walked out saying, “It shall be done.”_

_“Something to say, Sansa?” He asked, and she started to grind her teeth._

_“No, Your Grace.” She said, through clenched teeth._

_“Nothing?” Jon asked incredulously._

_“No, Your Grace.” Sansa said, infuriating him with the title that she stubbornly insisted on calling him._

_“Oh, for the love of…” Jon said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sansa, I am not Joffrey. I need you to be honest with me. You of all people know what an unchecked King can do. I need you to tell me when you disagree with me.”_

_“Truly?”_

_“Not in front of people. But yes.” Jon said, and Sansa smiled cheekily._

_“I don’t think you should have all the copies of Floria- Hey watch it!” She shouted as he threw a quill at her._

“Are you ready to go in Your Grace?” Alys asked, and she quickly stepped into the hall when he nodded “All rise for His Grace; the King.”

Jon walked in, followed by Sansa, and nodded to allow everyone to sit down.

“Since…” Jon said, embarrassed to realize that his voice came out in a squeak. He coughed loudly to cover it before speaking again. This was so much different than being Lord Commander. “Since this is the first time that we are doing a court like this, I will explain how I wish for it to go. I will speak on a few matters then I will open up the floor. I wish to keep this civil.”

He waited a moment for anyone to say anything before continuing, “Right now I lack a small council. Princess Sansa, Lady Alys and I have been working on appointments and we shall announce them as we decide. Every Kingdom will have a voice on my council, and I will try to spread the appointments out equally.”

“Lemme guess, Master of Ships for the Iron born.” Asha snarked from the front row and a look from Jon she held up her hands in surrender but did not stop giggling.

“Although I am pleased to Inform you that we _do have_ two positions in place.” Jon stressed. “Lord Howland Reed, I have appointed to my Master of Whispers. After he and his men were able to take back Moat Cailin for us, I see not a better man for the job.

For my second announcement I have appointed Lady Anya Waynwood my Mistress of Laws.”

There was a little bit of outcry at the appointing of a woman to the Small council, but Jon did not let his face betray any emotion; neither anger nor guilt. Slowly the complains died down and everyone was looking at their feet. Sansa was adamant about giving the woman a role on the council and he was going to do it. It was practically the only thing she asked for in this new dynasty. _“Just not coin!”_ she stressed.

“Also, Princess Val of the Freefolk has taken over as Master-at-Arms of Winterfell.” Jon said, and surprisingly no complaints were lodged. Most people knew what was coming and wanted every able body to help fight. Most of the North and Riverlands had seen the Spearwives do battle and the Mormonts had been a fixture in the North for thousands of years.

Although Jon suspected that maybe it had something to do with Val knocking the seven hells out of Ser Daltis, Ser Decran and Ser Traven in the training yard the other day. All at the same time. “She will make sure that everyone in Winterfell is well trained for battle. That includes any able bodies between the ages of ten through sixty.”

“Will that include the girls, Your Grace?” Lord Coldwater asked.

“Aye.” Jon nodded, and there was a little bit of a grumble but for the most part no one said anything. “The Army of the Dead will not discriminate between men and women. And from what we’ve learned neither will the Lannister Army. Everyone should be trained for what is to come.”

“Olyvar Frey.” Jon said, and the former squire stood up. “We are about to send our troops into the Riverlands. You are aware that we are going to be forced to take down the Twins and all of their Inhabitants.”

“Y- Yes, Your Grace.” Olyvar said sadly. As much as the Frey’s were monsters that killed Robb and his men, they were still the boy’s family. “Ser Brynden Tully vouched for you. Once we take the Twins, I am appointing you Lord of the Crossing.”

“Th-Thank you, Your Grace.” Olyvar said, “And… and the rest of my family?”

“Your… Uncle?” Jon said, quite unsure of the Frey family dynamics.

“Brother, Your Grace.” Olyvar corrected sheepishly as the man was old enough to be the boys grandfather.

“Your Brother, Aenys has been letting us know who was and who was not involved in the Red Wedding.” Jon said, “Those who were will be executed. The rest will go be spread around to houses in the North, Vale and Riverlands as hostages.”

“I understand Your Grace.” Olyvar said. It could have been much worse. House Bolton is now extinct.

“Lord Blackwood.” Jon said, “You have the floor.”

“I have received messages from Pink Maiden, Seagard, Maidenpool and Raventree Hall. There have been conflicting reports but for the most part, _all_ of the hostages have been released from the Twins.” Lord Tytos said, to everyone and everyone started cheering. “Including Lord Edmure.”

The cheering grew louder, and Lord Tytos continued. “Lady Roslin is still captive at Casterly Rock so he is unable to provide his support publicly, but the others have all started to build up their forces to help besiege the Twins.”

“Do we know _how_ this happened?” Sansa asked, and Jon was wondering the same thing.

“Everyone who sent missives said that they dared not to say until they saw his Grace in person, they did not want the chance that it was intercepted to take place.” Tytos said, “They have assured me that they would let us know once we arrive in the Riverlands.”

“My L- Your Grace!” Ser Harrold said, standing up. “We also need to deal with the Sellsword group the Brave Companions. They have started to head east towards the Vale of Arryn.”

Jon could not believe that this had not been dealt with yet. These men were hired by Tywin Lannister, and now they have spiraled out of control. The Lannister’s were refusing to do anything, the Frey’s weren’t competent enough to and none of the Riverland lords were able to gather a force to defeat them or the Iron Throne would deem them in open Rebellion.

“Lord Royce?” Jon said, directing to the current Lord Protector of the Vale. “When you return to the Gates of the Moon would you be able to amass a force that can deal with these men.”

Yes, Your Grace.” Lord Royce said, “I shall send a missive now.”

“Please do.” Jon said as another man stood up.

“Your Grace, I would be honored to lead the men of the Vale in the fight of these men in the Riverlands.” He said, kneeling in front of the high table

“Thank you, Lord…”

“Lyn Corbray.” The man said, and Sansa’s face darkened. She had mentioned that this man was in Littlefinger’s pocket

“Thank You, Lord Corbray.” Jon said, thinking on his feet. “Unfortunately speaking with my sister, we have discussed another job for you. We would like you and Lords Ned and Mors Umber to officially take back the Dreadfort. A show of numerous kingdoms working together.”

The man looked more than annoyed but could not publicly dispute Jon’s orders. Taking the Dreadfort sounded like an important job but it truly was not. There were no more Bolton’s. The Castle garrison would more than likely surrender without much fuss. There was a reason that Little Ned Umber was leading the siege; to get his feet wet. There was no way he was going to allow a man who was employed by Littlefinger to do anything important. He learned enough from His father, his brother and his own time undercover with the Night’s Watch to know not to trust false friends.

“I will talk to lord Umber later.” Sansa said, and Jon thanked her as another stood

“Your Grace?” Jonelle Cerwyn said, timidly.

“Yes, Lady Cerwyn.”

“Who will get the Dreadfort?” She asked and he could tell that it was on a lot of the Northern Lord’s minds.

“Well…” Jon said, looking at Sansa. He hadn’t talked to her about this beforehand, but he thought it should be alright. That or blow up horribly in his face. One of the two. “Ramsay was a _trueborn son_ of House Bolton, so naturally it should go to his wife.”

Jon could sense the discontent but before any voices could sound, Lady Dustin shot up from her seat. Jon was surprised, not just by how fast she stood up despite her injury, but of her defense of Jeyne. He did not know what the two’s relationship was, but they seemed to have grown close. The dirty looks that she was giving the council quickly buried any protests before they began.

“Lady Jeyne Poole step forward.” Sansa said, and Jeyne walked up. Her eyes were wide, and Sansa nodded to her friend. She quickly whispered, “Thank you for this brother.”

“Kneel.” Jon said, and he winced how fast she nearly fell to the floor. Torghan Flint quickly handed her a sword small enough for the girl to brandish in front of her. “Jeyne Poole, do you swear you and your House’s Loyalty to House Stark of Winterfell.”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to come to House Stark’s aid when called upon?”

“I do.”

“Do you swear to protect those who inhabit your lands.” Jon asked, finally and Jeyne said, “I do.” Through tears.

“Then rise, Jeyne Poole.” Jon said, “Lady of the Dreadfort.”

While many of the Lords and Ladies in the North were hoping for Lordship over the Dreadfort, not one noble argued for Jeyne not to get it. While not a lot of Lords witnessed it, _every_ lord heard about what Ramsay did to her. No one wanted to be the heel that didn’t see her get justice done. Jon felt confident that Jeyne would be fine. Between Karsi and Lady Dustin, no one would challenge her truly.

“The Bolton’s have been extinct.” Jon shouted and the room started to quiet down. “Their legacy to be put to rest as well. Therefore, Lady Poole. The Dreadfort shall be renamed. You have until the morrow to give me the new name.”

“Very well, Your Grace.” Jeyne said, bowing her head before scurrying off back into the crowd as to not be the center of attention.

“Your Grace.” A lord Jon did not recognize said, gaining Jon’s attention.

“Lord Ryker from House Boggs, Your Grace.” Howland whispered to a grateful Jon.

“Yesterday we received a report that The Hound is trying to get into the North.” The Lord said.

“Joffrey’s shield?” Jon asked at the same time Sansa exclaimed, “Sandor?”

“Let him come, Your Grace!” Bronze Yohn shouted. “Let us give the Mad Dog of the Saltpans the justice he deserves!”

“No! Sandor did…” Sansa said, before she could stop herself. “What I mean to say is that Sandor Clegane… I do not believe that Sandor Clegane is guilty of what he is being accused of. Yes, bring him here so that we can give him a _fair_ trial.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at his little sister but called out his agreement. His sister would definitely be getting interrogated about Sandor Clegane once this was over.

“I do not have anything else to say.” Jon said, officially declaring it since no one truly wanted to actually follow his plan. “I will open the floor to anyone who has something they need addressed.”

“Do you have a queen in mind, Your Grace?” Asha Greyjoy asked, and judging by the smirk on her face she knew exactly what she just did.

Her question opened the flood gates as numerous lords and ladies started pushing for their own daughters, nieces, sisters and in some cases themselves into consideration. Jon sighed as Sansa started unsubtly giggling. This was going to be a long day…  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have prewritten so expect more gaps between chapters. Next chapter, Barristan Selmy
> 
> Oh and FYI, Jon's vision happened for real exactly like he saw


	18. Ser Barristan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ser Barristan Selmy and the supporters of the True Queen of Westeros arrive in Dragonstone to meet old allies and new.

“ _They may be shit but the Seven Kingdoms were home.”_ Barristan thought to himself as he and the crew jumped from the boat to Dragonstone’s shore.

“Ser Barristan!” Daenerys said, as he marched up the shore with the other members of the fledgling Queensguard, Rakharo the Dothraki, and Shield Hero the Unsullied to organize the forces to take Dragonstone.

“Your Grace.” Barristan said, “We must go into Dragonstone first. Varys’ intelligence may have been correct, but we still need to check the castle for any hidden daggers.”

The spymaster had been very helpful to her grace’s cause once he abandoned the Lannister-Baratheon coalition. He claimed to support the true queen, but Barristan remembered the assassination attempt he arranged. Everything that he arranged with the Boy-King. He could not and would not ever trust the eunuch.

A few days past, Varys told them that the Tyrells and Lannister had officially broken their alliance when Cersei blew up the fighting grounds. Yes, she claimed that _she_ was the one they were trying to go after, the burns on her arm and neck led credence to the story, but no one believe that to be the case. But either way Varys brought the Redwyne fleet’s loyalty to Queen Daenerys after their two sons were killed and that could not be overlooked.

“There is no need, Ser Barristan.” A voice said, and the seasoned Knight spun around quickly.

“Ser Loras!” Ser Barristan said, grabbing his sword.

The Tyrell boy had been a fixture at the court for many years and Barristan had made his acquaintance in that time. He was an alright lad, but his sister was married to the Lannister Queen’s son and no one had heard from the girl since. It was likely that she was being held hostage, forcing the Tyrell’s compliance.

“As my brother Garlan’s current heir, I officially give fealty to the true queen of Westeros on behalf of House Tyrell.” Loras said, bending the knee to Daenerys.

Barristan looked and saw numerous Unsullied holding their spears at the ready for the boy to make a move, but Barristan was not. Skilled at the lance as he was, the boy’s sword skills left much to be wanting. At least to those who weren’t his allies and were not fighting back.

“Get up foolish boy.” A scowling woman said, walking up. While they had never met Barristan assumed this was the Queen of Thorns. She was famed for her cutting remarks with a smile on her face, but he assumed that having her son and grandchildren burned to death would drain anyone’s jovial nature.

“Lady Olenna. Ser Loras.” Barristan said, at a nod from Daenerys. “May a present to you Daenerys of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons”

“Oh yes we needed to hear _all_ of the titles, else we would not know who she was.” Olenna said, and before the former Lady of Highgarden could stick her foot in her mouth any farther, Barristan interrupted.

“You are bending the knee?” He asked for clarification.

“Oh, yes.” Olenna said, “We are looking to make an alliance.”

“Let me guess?” Daenerys said, rolling her eyes. “Marriage?”

Barristan looked at his queen worried. It had been a few months since the fighting pits and the girl had not been the same; darker and quicker to violence. The Tyrell’s were one of the most powerful houses and it would be foolish to spurn them because of an ill-timed quip.

“It helps you just as much if not more than us, your Grace.” Loras said, causing Daenerys to raise an eyebrow.

“My Grandson here is well loved by nobility and smallfolk alike.” Olenna said. “A marriage to him would be very popular for your future reign."

“And what would you get out of this Lady Olenna?” Daenerys asked.

“Revenge on the sot that murdered my grandbabies.” Olenna said. “My Margaery was loved and loved well. Nobility and Smallfolk alike loved her. And that lying whore murdered her. We wish for justice and you are our best way of receiving it.”

“My Queen,” Barristan said, keeping his voice soft. “You know you must eventually marry for an alliance. This is quite probable that this will be the best match you make.”

When she nodded in acceptance at his words he continued. “However, I urge caution. We must get an update on the political landscape. Not to mention the Tyrell’s have not been the loyalist of companions in recent years.”

Though she could not hear what he was saying Olenna spoke up. “While you are our best chance at revenge, you are not the only oppurtunity. We could always go to the King of the North?”

“King of the North?” Barristan and his queen asked at the same time.

“Oh yes King of the North.” Olenna said, “The Stark girl, Stark Princess, had quite a crush on my Loras back in King’s Landing. If we offer them a marriage between her and Loras she may just cream her smallclothes right then and there.”

Barristan felt uncomfortable with the way she was talking about the Maiden young enough to be his and Ash… his daughter. Apparently, Ser Loras felt the same judging by his blush. He remembered the crush the young Stark Girl, the red head not the one who looked like her aunt who ran off with Rhaegar, had on the knight. If it was enough to make the knight who peacocked more than any other blush then it must have been bad.

“She’s already married.” The Imp said, waddling up from behind Barristan along with the other dwarf that he had been dragging around with him. Barristan did not know what the relationship between the two was, but the Imp of Casterly Rock would not go anywhere without her despite the vitral he sent her way.

“Then it’ll probably the first time she does so, considering her marriage was unconsummated and therefore easy to put aside.” She said, earning a dark look from the Imp.

“Your grandson swore an oath to the Kingsguard.” Tyrion said. “I know; I was there.”

“Well considering that they elected a Night’s Watch Bastard deserter, I don’t see them putting up much of a fuss when it comes up.” Olenna said, waving her hand at him dismissively.

“Jon Snow _?”_ Tyrion asked scandalized. “They elected _Jon Snow,_ King in the North?”

“Jon _Stark_.” A woman in red said, walking up. Barristan recognized her as a red priestess. He may not trust their religion, but they helped them win Meereen. Daenerys wanted it known that they were welcome in her court. “His brother legitimized him before he died.”

“Did that eunuch sell show tickets to witness our arrival?” Tyrion sighed, rolling his eyes and Barristan could not help but agree. It would not do any good to be able to protect their queen if every lord in Westeros and their mother showed up.

“Jon _Stark.”_ Daenerys said, with a sneer. “Has claimed himself King of the North?”

“King _from_ the North.” Varys said, insistently. “The Riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, parts of both the Stormlands and Iron Islands all elected him king.”

“What?” Daenerys spat, somewhat surprised. She still came somewhat expecting taking her throne back somewhat easily.

“Numerous kingdoms declared for a… Bastard?” Tyrion asked, incredulously.

“Yes.” Varys said, “Although, with some of the other allies I have working with us I would not be so disparaging of bastards.”

Grey Worm and Missandei exchanged looks. He knew that they did not understand the big deal of people following a bastard, or bastard in general and how Westeros treated them.. Barristan caught Grey Worm’s eye and jerked his head towards the Castle. It made no sense to be wasting time waiting here instead of beginning some of their tasks. The Unsullied general nodded and led a contingent passed the gates.

“He is a thief.” Daenerys said, “He got his crown…”

“By his people’s loyalty to Ned Stark, no doubt.” Barristan said, before she started saying things that she might regret. He would not forget the extensive Spy networks that Varys, Littlefinger and even Olenna Redwyne used. If he was shrewd enough to get himself elected King despite his setbacks, it is very likely that the boy may have spies here.

“Your Grace?” The priestess said, before Daenerys could go off on a tangent. “I believe you spoke to my former disciple? Kinvara?”

“She was your disciple?” Tyrion asked, “I thought she is the head of the…”

“My lord has me acting out his will around the world.” The Red robed woman said. “There I have seen your and fates are intertwined.”

“With him?” Daenerys asked.

“This may be a boon, Your Grace.” Varys said, “More and more lords have been flocking to him. We are in a strong position now however if we meet with him…”

“What? He will just give up his crown.” Daenerys snapped.

“Possibly.” Tyrion said, “Dear Ol’ Ned lost his head trying to sit who he thought was the right person on the Iron Throne. I liked Jon Snow; if we can convince him that you _are_ the true heir to the Throne it is likely that he will bend the knee. After all he lost his brother and father to the Lannister’s. He has just as much reason to hate them.”

“One of my brother’s bannermen, Randyll Tarly, his son is very close to this Jon Snow.” Ser Loras said, adding to the conversation for the first time. “He brought his son with him from the Citadel to tell you of his time with this King in the North.”

Daenerys sat for a moment in ponderance. “How many Lords outside the North have declared for him?”

“All of the Riverlands aside from House Frey.” Varys said, and all the Westerosi scowled at the thought. What they did had done wasn’t only an affront to the gods but ruined diplomatic relations for the region as a whole. If they come crawling to Daenerys, he will be putting his foot down on their aid. “Also, House Darry.”

“Darry?” His queen whispered. He knew Ser Willem took her and her brother across the narrow sea. That kind of loyalty is hard to come by.

“I thought House Darry was extinct?” Tyrion said, and Barristan mourned for the family of his former brother.

“Amerei Frey is now going by Amerei _Darry_ , now.” Varys said, tisking.

“Gatehouse Ami?” Tyrion asked incredulously.

“She is the last living member of House Darry since Ramsay Bolton killed her older sister and her younger Brother died in the Battle of the Bastards.” Varys said, quickly explaining the Battle to take back the North and the origin of the name. “She has been ruling in her own right ever since Lancel Lannister left their shame of a marriage.”

“Well that is good news. She will be most welcome.” Daenerys said, “Any family of Willem Darry is welcome at my council. Without scathing nicknames.” She added directed at Tyrion.

“Apologies your Grace, but that is where the good news ends.” Varys said, “Sansa Stark has rallied the Vale to her brother’s cause. They have sworn fealty to King from the North.”

“Sansa Stark… Your dear wife, Lord Tyrion?” Daenerys asked causing the dwarf next to Tyrion to bristle.

“Yes, well as her lord Husband…” He began closing his mouth from where it had dropped open in shock. The Vale was practically the only army that had no part in the War of the Five kings. As a region that was completely fresh _and_ some of the most elite fighters in Westeros, they would be a strong boon to have on their side.

“She is not the same girl you knew Lord Tyrion.” Varys said, before Tyrion could finish what was likely an inappropriate jape. “She is no longer a hostage unprotected surrounded by enemies… surrounded by Lannisters. She gained the loyalty of the entire Vale when she tossed their liege lord’s murderer from the Gates of the Moon.”

Tyrion, Daenerys and Barristan were all confused. They all believed that Cersei and Jaime were the ones who murdered Jon Arryn. “Sansa? _Sansa_ tossed someone from the Gates of the Moon?”

“Ned Stark was very fond of the saying ‘ _the man passes the sentence and swings the sword’_ or some other nonsense like that. I guess it must have passed to his children. And it was Littlefinger by the way.” Varys supplied and Barristan and Tyrion both nodded their heads in realization. While they never guessed it, it did make sense in hindsight. “This is very helpful to our cause. With him gone his mischief is less likely to affect us. I would like to know how he got her out of King’s Landing, however. My little birds are being shockingly quiet on the matter.”

“As would I.” Olenna said, and mostly to herself she said, “Although I should be thankful, his successful attempt stopped my own grandchildren’s half arsed attempt that they did not think I knew about.”

“That is where the worst of the news ends your grace. However, half the Iron Islands have declared for him, and the other half followed Euron Greyjoy to Cersei. They Iron Islands are not known for being a large scale threat and should be easily dealt with.” Varys said, nose crinkling in disgust. “About eight Lords in the Stormlands. Mostly minor Lords but they are of no matter. Obara Sand and her sisters have rallied some of the Lords and Ladies from Dorne.”

Barristan looked at Tyrion Lannister in alarm. It was well known what Ellaria Sand and those Sand Snakes did to his niece. Would he be able to put aside any enmity he may have for her murderers until they claimed the throne? Varys continued unbeknownst to Barristan’s inner turmoil, “Between the Lords from the Reach and Dorne, the Stormlands are isolated from the Rest of the Stark coalition. They will follow us in time.”

“ _Possibly_ the Reach.” Olenna corrected as a reminder but Barristan ignored her.

“House Selmy may not be the most powerful House in the Stormlands,” Barristan began, thinking of his nephew. Had he declared for Jon Sn… Stark? “But we are still respected. I can reach out and see if they may bring some other Houses to declare for our Queen.”

“I wishe to meet this Obara Sand as soon as possible.” Daenerys pondered for a few more moments. She seemed torn until Rhaegal landed next to her and started nudging her. This seemed to allow her to make a decision. “Send a raven to the North. Let Jon _Snow_ know that his queen summons him to Dragonstone, _to bend the knee.”_

She then turned to the Tyrell’s. Loras visibly deflated as he realized what she was going to say. The Reach claimed one of the biggest fleets and an army nearly double anyone else’s in the Seven Kingdoms. There was literally not another person other that would be as politically astute a decision. Except maybe Jon Stark but between the hostilities between their families in the last quarter century a marriage did not seem likely. “Ser Loras, I trust there is a Septon on this Island?”

“I am not unfamiliar with officiating Marriage ceremonies, Your Grace.” The priestess offered.

“Thank you…”

“Melisandre.” The priestess supplied.

“Thank you, Melisandre.” Daenerys replied, “You offer is much appreciated. However, most Westerosi will not accept a marriage if it is not preformed in the eyes of the Faith of Seven.”

“The Lord of Light… does…” Melisandre said, and while Barristan did not know her, he felt that she may have been about to go on a tangent about religion. He wondered if this was the Red Witch that people said had entranced Stannis? “Very well, Your Grace. I have learned that the people of the Seven Kingdoms must be willing to except R’llhor into their hearts of their own free will. They will with time but today is not that day.”

“If there is not a Septon around here I shall have one found, Your Grace.” Loras said, halfheartedly.

Daenerys was very disappointed at the lackluster reaction she received, and Barristan should not be surprised. She was very beautiful, and many men threw themselves at her. Now she was offering to marry one and the boys could not care any less “Very well. Ser Loras I officially release you from your Kingsguard oaths. The ceremony shall take place in the morning and we shall be wedded and bedded by this time tomorrow.”  
  


“Well you’ll certainly be _wedded_.” Tyrion snarked thankfully under his breath. Barristan could not even find it in him to be angry as his thoughts went to the same place at the same time the Imp had said it out loud.

“In the meantime, start getting my ships unloaded.” Daenerys said, before walking towards the castle.

“Your Grace,” Barristan whispered, “With Marriage…”

“I will figure it out, Ser Barristan.” She said, obviously knowing where he was going with this train of thought. She had confided in him one night when she had to much drink. As far as he knew, he was the _only_ one who knew. “Although I do not believe I have to…”

“Your Grace? You don’t mean…” Barristan began, and she nodded.

“I did not say anything because even now I am not completely sure. However, when I was taken by Drogon…” She said, allowing her Kingsguard to fill in the blanks. “However, we will need to figure _something_ out if this is not what I am hoping for.”

“Aye, Your Grace.” Barristan said, looking at where Tyrion and Varys were standing next to each other. “It is a good thing that we have to of the Smartest men in the country to figure something out then?”

He expected at least a token chuckle at his words, but he saw his queen kneeling in the sand; her hand trailing through it. “I am home, Ser Barristan.” She said in a choked voice; tears in her eyes. “I am finally home”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning I do not care for Daenerys, but fear not! I will be fair to the character so no Mad Queen Daenerys! That being said, this is a Stark centric story so do keep that in mind.


	19. Val

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Val has to deal with the realities of being stolen by a Southern King. Some new guests arrive as Jon plans to head south.

Val knew it was going to be a good day when Snow woke her up by slapping her on the arse and flipping her over to have his way with her. Val had been stolen and stolen others a few times, but Snow is the first one who could actually keep up pace with what the Wildling Princess wanted. Granted, it was only because of the time he spent in his Direwolf and sometimes it took a little more to get him there but still; he could keep up with her.

That’s not to say she did not like him outside of their coupling. He had the distinction that many other men could not say applied to them. He was a good man. She would always appreciate what he did for Mance. Also, she knew that no other southern leader would have allowed her people south of the wall. He made conditions but he would have been a fool not to. Especially since they were working smoothly. The Freefolk and southerners were actually getting along.

The freefolk had actually been assimilating to the south far better than anyone could imagine. Most of the “north’s” mountain clans were not so different than the freefolk so that helped the other “Northern” people adapt to their presence. But nothing helped more than Jon Snow. He led by example when he treated the freefolk no different than his other subjects, so all the other southerners just did the same. Granted they mostly went through clan chiefs but that is no different than how they went through their lords so that was just how they did things down here.

His relationship with Val also helped relations down south. A dozen or so of these southern men had stolen freefolk women and a few spearwives had stolen southern men. The fact that so many couples started out despite their differences could only be attributed to Jon and Val. The secret came out when his Little Lady Sister walked into his solar while he was bending Val over his desk. Both Starks were mortified; Val thought it to be funny though.

Snow, as intense as he could get during their coupling, was always the perfect gentleman. He always made sure that he had finished her off before he finished himself off inside of her. Since he got embarrassed when she was loud enough for the entire castle to hear her, she made sure she finished quietly, but not _to_ quietly. She reminded herself to get more ingredients for moon tea as he gently pulled out and laid back on the bed’s headboard.

“That was nice, Snow.” She said, looking back at him still on all fours as her body calmed itself down. “Are you sure you don’t want to declare your undying love for me to get me into one of those kneeler ceremonies again?”

Jon rolled his eyes and gave her another slap on the rump in response to her cheek. She let out an undignified squeak but only because she wasn’t expecting it. He grabbed her by the hips and maneuvered her backwards and onto his lap.

“I told you, I would not ask again.” Jon said, kissing at her neck.

It did not take long after his Little Lady Sister found them for the entire castle to know that Snow had stolen her. She _claimed_ she did not tell anyone but by the end of the day more than enough people were giving her funny looks when she walked the halls that there was no way that it was not common knowledge. Actually, that was not fair to the sister. In truth, it was all Sigorn and his big mouth’s fault!

The last meeting of all the Lords Snow called his marriage was brought up once again. She liked seeing Snow’s frustration every time that it was brought up. Finally, that fellow in the Bronze armor stood up.

_“Your Grace, the rumors about you and the Wildling Princess…-” He asked, giving Val aside glances all the while. She knew the hoity toity lords would not like that Snow was sleeping with her outside of their silly ceremonies. None more so than those with the weird accents that came with the Little Lady Sister._

_Before either Jon or Val could say anything, the little Prince spoke up. “My brother stole her. They are married. Leave’em alone!”_

_“What does that even mean?” A voice asked from the back of the room._

_Numerous lords and ladies were vocalizing their discontent when Sigorn stood up. “If I may?” He asked, all nice and proper like a kneeler. His common tongue had been coming along nicely despite the fact that he was mostly using it on Alys, opposed to trying the new language. “King Crow stole Val. Means she is his and he is hers. I married Alys, in same manner as southern lords do. It was the better for both peoples.”_

_“Like how Daeron II brought Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms!” Jon’s Little Lady Sister piped up. Despite the deliberate changing in events to make it sound like this was a political plan. numerous lords started nodding their heads in acceptance, abet reluctantly._

_The man in the Bronze Armor grumbled, saying “I guess she_ is _a princess…”_

After that day no one gave the two of them a weird look whenever they were together (‘cept his Little Lady sister for obvious reasons). They all accepted her as their queen now. Because she was fucking Snow. That’s it! _Gods_ kneelers were weird! The upside was that she and Jon were now able to spend more time together publicly.

She did not like it when the kneelers were calling her “Princess” now they’re calling her “Your Grace”! It was horrible. They were bowing to her in the halls and immediately stopping conversations when she walked in the area. They were being weird when she went hunting, when she was fighting, and when she was in a room with another man by herself.

She nearly hit her limit a few days prior. Val had run out of ingredients for her moon tea and needed to resupply. She had purchased them from this woman plenty of times before using the coins that the kneelers used that were given to her by Snow. Once the woman recognized the fact that she was Snow’s she refused to sell to her! Something about not wanting to ruin the line of succession. As if Snow’s… Had it not been for Alys defusing the situation and demanding the ingredients Val may have hurt the woman. She needed to find another supplier.

Which brings her back to _why_ she would need the tansy in the first place. “What brought this on Snow?” She asked, as his fingers started wiggling their way to places way to slow.

“What makes you think something _brought_ this on?” Jon asked pulling his fingers out.

“Most times I have to provoke you into this.” Val said. Snow was still being weird about fucking her while they haven’t said any vows. She did not care but the way they act south of the wall those vows were important. Then she realized what it was, and she asked with a growl of her own, “It’s those damned dreams again, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He said, sighing into her neck.

“Well? I’m waiting?” Val said. If he was going to be all touch feely then he could at least tell her what is bothering him.

“I’m pretty sure it was the death of the last Targaryen King.” Jon said, “He murdered my Uncle and Grandfather.”

“Tar-Gar-Yen…” Val said, “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“His daughter sent the letter the night before last.” Jon said, and Val nodded in realization.

Snow received the letter two nights past. Some Dragon Queen wanted him to go south and kneel. The Little Lady sister, Alys and the Shorthand all were not very happy, the crannogman most of all. She had a huge army of savages, but “savages” was objective. To these southerners the _Freefolk_ were savages so she would have to take their words with a grain of salt. She would have thought that the Crannogman would be more understanding considering how the other Southerners treat them.

“Forget about it Snow.” Val said, standing up and stretching. She made sure he got a good view of her arse before starting to get dressed. “They are just dreams.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Jon said, and Val sighed. “Did you talk to the crannogman yet?”

“Not yet.” Jon said.

“Then stop bitching until you do.” Val said, finishing up getting dressed. “Now I have to go train your sister. She’s about as good in a fight as the Little Monster.”

Snow’s sister was probably the worst person that Val had ever trained. Some people were just natural fighters, his sister was decidedly _not_ good at fighting. Whatsoever. They both have been trying to convince Snow of that, but it has been doing them no good. They’ve been wearing him down but not fast enough. It does not help that Val did not think that she liked her very much.

“I’ll see you at the meeting?” Jon asked.

“Yeah, Yeah.” She groaned.

~~~

After Val washed up from training, she made her way to the meeting in the big hall they used only for meetings. She rolled her eyes as all the southerners seemed to slightly bow to her as she passed them to sit down near the front of the room. As she sat down a girl with _green_ hair leaned close to her.

“You aren’t going to sit at the head table, Your Grace?” she asked, quietly but it was obvious the rest of the room was wondering the same.

“No why would I?” She asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Well that is where the King’s family sits.” She said, awkwardness in her voice.

“And?” She said.

“Did are you and his grace not… did he not… Are you and his grace not together?” She said, fiddling with her fingers.

Val rolled her eyes once more as she saw the other lords and ladies glaring at her. She knew most of them were jealous that their own families were not chosen to be his queen. She did not want to be their queen. She was with Snow; she did not know they were going to elect him King. This was already exhausting.

She sighed as she made her way up to the high table as Alys called the room to attention. Jon gave her a weary look as the room sat back down with him. He was not looking good. He looked fatigued and had dark bags under his eyes.

“There is nothing I need to declare so does anyone have anything.” Jon asked, looking down at his table.

“Your Grace?” The shorthand said, standing up. “The Stormlands and Storm’s end still does not have a paramount.”

Jon and Alys exchanged looks while his little sister looked very happy, about what Val did not know. She knew that Snow and Alys had been talking about this a few nights past. There were no clear candidates that Jon could realistically appoint that would not piss off the other Lords.

They needed to think of a solution soon or the lords would become cross and maybe start quarreling amongst themselves. It also did not help that they said they still only have about half of these Stormland lords, even if the number was increasing.

“My Lords,” The Little Lady sister shouted from Jon’s other side. “If I may provide a solution?”

She waited until the undivided attention of the room before speaking up. “My lords, how would you think of a child of Robert Baratheon taking the position?”

The dark haired girl that was one of the only kneeler women who had actually been able to keep up with Val in the sparring yard jumped in her seat wear she was sitting next to the buxom girl (who she was pretty sure Snow’s sister wanted to steal) and she looked at the high table in a panic.

“Robert Baratheon does not have any children?” A southerner said, “We went to war over it or do you not remember?”

“Watch your tone, My Lord.” Snow said, standing up which cowed the man a little.

“He has no true born children,” A different man wearing bronze said, “but he _does_ have bastard children. One of which was he had raised within my household.”

A few of them looked ready to argue but none were given. Val knew that while the other regions of Westeros weren’t as loyal as the “northerners” were to the Starks, they did have a sort of loyalty to their chosen leaders. These “Storm Lords” seemed to hold this Robert Baratheon in high esteem.

“Are they…” Jon started, before the red head tapped him and directed his attention to the dark-haired girl from earlier. “My lady?”

The normally fearless girl was trembling as she stood up. “Yes, your Grace?”

“Would you be willing to take this responsibility?” He asked.

“Yes, your grace.” She said nodding and looking down.

“Is there anyone who would like to put their own claim for Storm’s End?” Jon asked louder. He sighed in relief as no one spoke up. Val knew these kneelers had issues with women in power and it was a testament that no one was challenging Jon’s idea to put a woman in charge.

“Well Lady…”

“Mya, your grace.”

“Well Lady Mya, I hereby officially appoint you Lady of Storm’s End.” He said, this time there was no cheering but at least there was no complaints either. “Princess Sansa and Lady Royce will make sure that you will be learned on how to manage a household.”

Val tried not to roll her eyes at the last part. She knew how kneelers worked. More than likely she would be _married_ off to some other kneeler lord and be pushed back just to carry his babies; regardless of level of competence.

“Your Grace.” A man with a weirwood tree on his chest stood up. “I have received word from both Seagard and my kin at Raventree hall. They started besieging the Twins…”

“Good, Lady Manderly’s and Lord Reed’s forces should be there as well, no?” Jon asked and the man shook his head.

“Here’s the thing, Your Grace.” He said, “Once they got there the garrison let them in. Over half the Frey’s were wiped out without are men’s interference. We did not have to take it.”

“I don’t…” Jon said exchanging looks with his little sister. “How?”

“There seems to have been a sickness or a poison?” The Lord said, unsure. “What we do know is that over half the Freys are dead and their bodies decayed queerly… the other half are sick and defenseless. But _only_ the Freys. All the servants and guards were fine.”

“I want answers as soon as feasibly possible.” Jon said a somewhat panicked look on his face.

She could not blame him. An entire settlement like that just randomly dying out of no where like that was very strange. It had happened North of the Wall before so the Freefolk were used to it but with them now manning the various castles and forts on the wall, the situation was more uncommon to the majority of those in the room.

“Your Grace.” A lady said, standing up. (She thinks that she may need to swallow her pride and ask Snow or Alys for a tutorial on who’s who.) “Will you be joining our troops in the Riverlands?”

Val knew that there was a little bit of debate amongst everyone whether Snow would be going North to help support the wall or South to aid the taking of those who broke guest right. Right now, Snow has insisted that he was needed in Winterfell, but Val knew him. He wanted to be in the thick of things, not because he loved fighting though. No, he wanted to be there because he wanted to be there for his men.

“No.” Jon said, standing up and walking around the table. “Last night, I received a letter from Daenerys Targaryen demanding my presence.”

Val expected an outcry of anger but got only terror in response. She knew these Targaryens were the old kings and that were disposed by Snow’s pa. From what she remembered they were hated by the southerners. Most of these lords may not be the most martial of men and women, but they posture like it. She did not expect for them to openly react in fear.

“Is it true that she has dragons, Your Grace.” A Lady asked.

“That is what we have heard, yes.” Jon said, and Val know understood the concern. Even north of the wall Dragons were to be feared. These southerners refer to themselves as whatever they deem represents their families. Stag King, Raven Lord, Lion Queen, and other than the Starks the comparisons were just a backless boast. Until now…

“And can she control these Dragons? The same way you control your wolves?” Sverolf asked, about his Warging.

“From what we understand? Yes.” Jon admitted looking more upset than when he found out Rickon “stole” the Blackwood girl and they started playing “maester”. “The letter demanded that I go down and bend the knee to the _rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms.”_

He said the last part disdainfully, so everyone knew that he thought it to be full of shit, but it alleviated no fears. That is, until a voice sounded from the back.

“But _is_ she the rightful Queen?” A woman with skin darker than Val had ever seen walked from a larger group and up through the hall to the front. Another woman about the same age with dark hair and purple eyes walked with her. “After all you do have four of the kingdoms sworn to you.”

“We have _five_ Kingdoms, Lady…” Snow said, leading her on to introduce herself to find out who the hell this woman.

“Well three and two halves. I was never great at math, but I believe that means four?” She said, and Val could not help but like this woman despite her flirting with Snow. “Although it could be five if you play your cards right.”

“And you can offer me a kingdom, Lady…” Jon said, skeptically.

“ _Princess.”_ The woman insisted and Val was glad that _someone_ proudly used the title seeing how Val hated it and Snow’s sister blushed fiercely every time it was used on her. “Princess Arianne Nymeros Martell. Rightful Heir to Sunspear and Dorne. And my companion Lady _Ashara Dayne.”_

The way she said it and the way that everyone, and Val meant _everyone,_ in the room gasped. The entire room looked between Snow and the Dayne lady despite her clearly being subordinate to the Princess. The Little Lady sister dumped the Direwolf from her lap to the floor.

“Don’t let her get close to Jon.” The wargling whispered to her companion. The Direwolf trotted to Jon and made sure the Purpled eyed woman could not get close to Snow.

“I can have Dorne swear fealty to you. We can also help you secure the Stormlands.” She said, giving him a dazzling smile. Val was proud that she stopped herself from blushing when this gorgeous woman’s flirting seemed to have no effect on Snow.

“I appreciate that, Your Majesty…” He said, somewhat panicked. He looked at his sister to make sure that he used the right term, but she also shrugged. “But until we can verify your Identity…”

“I- I can vouch for her!” A voice from the group the Princess came in with sounded.

The Starks all looked to the back and three sets of jaws dropped.

_“Margaery?”_

_“Arya?”_

_“Mother!”_ Rickon yelled and started skipping to the back. A woman with darker hair cut down to her shoulders scooped him up tears in her eyes.

A girl next to her, whom Val assumed was the sister that Jon spoke so much of considering how similar they looked, incredulously asked, “Rickon?”

“Oi! That’s enough!” Alys yelled, trying to get prying eyes away. “Anyone not part of the royal family out!”

As the court slowly filtered out through the front, the Princess leaned over to Jon and said, “I found this lot on my way up.”  
  


“Th- Thank you Princess.” Jon said, “Our steward will make sure you and your companions will be given a place to stay in Winterfell. We can speak on details to an alliance at a later time this afternoon?”

“Oh yes.” She said, in a drawn-out drawl as she walked away with the purple eyed woman. “I am looking forward to it.”

Jon smiled as he turned almost to be tackled by a blur of dark hair.

“Little Sister!” He said, picking the girl up looking happier than Val had _ever_ seen him.

“Do I have to call you ‘Your Grace’ now?” The girl asked through tears of her own.

“Of course. Else you’ll be flogged.” He said, grin rippling over his face.

“Shut up, Stupid.” She said, punching his ribs and he fainted hurt. “Is that really…”

“Rickon?” Jon said ruffling her hair. “Yes. Sansa couldn’t believe it either. Had you seen him when we first reunited, you’d have understood. Maybe _you_ can convince him to get a damned haircut!”  
  
“If you have Rickon, does that mean Bran…”

“We don’t know where Bran is, but we have people looking for him.” He said, ruffling her hair causing her to giggle.

As they started small talk Val looked to the Red headed sister who had become stiff as a board. She was glaring at the woman who originally spoke, and Val could tell; _this_ is the one Sansa wanted to steal.

“S- Sansa?” The girl with chestnut hair said, walking over slowly. “I- I know that we…”

The girl stopped as Jon’s Perfect, Poised, Ladylike sister turned to her and punched her right in her face. “I hate you, Margaery Tyrell! The world was better off with you dead!”

With that she turned around, grabbed her mother’s hand and stormed away, Black Aly yipping at her heels. Everyone who knew the Stark girl’s eyes widened and Jon quickly went over to help the lady up. Val was just glad she now knew that the girl could finally hit something when she wanted to.

“Apologies, My Lady.” He said, “My Steward will get you settled. Winterfell is getting tight so maybe you would not mind sharing with some of your companions?”

“No, it is fine, Your Grace.” The girl said, holding a handkerchief to her bleeding nose. “Would we be able to commandeer a raven, however? My cousin and I would like to let our familied know we are alive.”

“Uh, we shall talk about that later?” Jon said, as he directed them to the Shorthand.

“Who are you?” Arya asked her. “Only royal family should be in here.”

“This is Val of the Freefolk.” Rickon said to his sister. “Jon stole her!”  
  


“Stole? What does… Oh!” The girl said, in realization and a blust spread across her checks. “Um… Glad to have you as part of the family?”

“Yes, thank you.” Val said, reminding Val very much of the time she met Mance after he had stolen Dalla. “Come on, Snow. Let’s go meet your mother.”

“That woman is _not_ my mother!” He spit and a jolt of fear shot through Val’s body. As happy as he was to see his sister, he was that much angrier at the mention of this woman. She had never seen Snow like this, not even with the flayer bastard.

“A-Alright…” She said, eyes wide.

“Come!” Arya said, taking his hand. He eyes were wide as well and Val could tell his snap shocked her too. “I want to see Sansa and you can tell me how you took back the castle. I am also looking forward to meeting your…”

The girl trailed off unsure what to call her and Val sighed. “Wife…” She said, rolling her eyes. She guessed if they were going to treat her like a kneeler queen she might as well give them _something._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. I went back a decided to rewrite the chapter from Val's POV. Hope it was worth the wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been helping me get over my writers block so I am not sure how often this will be updated. Let me know what you think, and any pairings that anyone would like (only one I’m solid on is Jon/Val). Sorry about Stannis, I hated how the show did him dirty but these drabbles wont work without his death


End file.
